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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472962">Into Your Hands I Commend My Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliaes/pseuds/opheliaes'>opheliaes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Peaky Blinders (TV), Peaky Blinders RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1910s, 1920s, 1930s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, BDSM Vibes, Bondage, Brothels, Chinese Character, Chinese Language, Colonialism, Drug Abuse, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone Should Go To Therapy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Filipino Character, Gangs, Historical Accuracy, Historical References, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infidelity, Inspired by Miss Saigon, Interracial Relationship, Light BDSM, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Past Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Underage, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Prostitution, Racial slurs, Racism, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Roman Catholicism, Scars, Self-Harm, Sexism, Sexual Abuse, Slurs, Substance Abuse, Tommy Shelby Needs Therapy, Triad - Freeform, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, With some creative license taken due to practical limitations, World War I</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>54,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliaes/pseuds/opheliaes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't you understand, love? All these years I thought I left my soul in France. Now I see you've kept it safe for me all along."</p><p>For the Shelby family, happiness has never come easy. For Guadalupe Zhang, it never did either.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ada Shelby/Freddie Thorne, Arthur Shelby/Linda Shelby, Esme Shelby/John Shelby, Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>231</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Strangers pt. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Italics denotes words spoken in Chinese/another foreign language.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We're not lovers</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A train bound for Rugby from London, October 1918</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>Lupe fiddled with the railway ticket in her gloved hands, ignoring the silence from her travel companions in favor of periodically asking the conductor in polished English when the Rugby stop would be next. While the anxiety of traveling unaccompanied through the British countryside would have otherwise rendered her to peel her gloves off and wear at her nails, she did her best to still this less than attractive impulse. The last time she’d been caught, the madames had torn into her palms ‘till they were raw as a warning.</p><p>Cuifen had made herself clear; Lupe and the rest of the girls were to travel from London to Birmingham, switching trains at Rugby. At Birmingham Station, they’d be promptly collected by Cuifen and two guards and packed off to the few establishments Green Gang held north of London; a brothel and a bar in Birmingham’s scarce Chinese Quarters.</p><p>Guadalupe had asked why the Gang thought to send some of their best workers away from the bustling Chinatown on Limehouse Causeway they had all lived in since they were little. Cuifen’s last words to her echoed in her mind.</p><p>“<em>T</em><em>he war’s ended and they’ll be sending the boys home soon. There’s no better customer than a man who’s seen the blood and gore of war. Gods willing, they’ll be coming home with a new appetite for morphine and we’ll have them by all their balls. Mr. Du wants us to establish a foothold in the North. Not a better way to do that then whores. You keep an eye on the rest of the birds, Xiu Jia. You’re the</em> only<em> one I trust.” </em> </p><p>The madame must have anticipated an escape attempt or two from the younger brothel-sisters on their first unminded trip beyond Limehouse. Lupe knew she’d do them a favor by seeing them all to their destination. Their fate would be far worse at the hands of disgruntled triad enforcers than it would be in Birmingham. A few years past she might have had empathy for their wide, scared eyes and trembling shoulders, hardly able to understand a word the strange men around them spoke. Now she could only find pity within herself. Her sisters would learn and adapt, just as she once did.</p><p>The sentiment reminded her to quickly flit her eyes around the car to ensure there were four girls still sitting where they ought to be.</p><p>Huiyin sat directly across from her with her head bowed and flinched every time she met another person’s eyes. Liangliang held Huiyin’s hand in her own, staring out into the passing European countryside with the vacancy that came with laudanum bottle she kept in her silk purse.</p><p>Across the aisle, Shulan and Xiaoyu pressed their curl-crowned heads together in what looked to her like restless sleep, their linen hats sitting askew.</p><p>To be fair, Lupe thought to herself, they would all have to adapt. The last time she’d traveled had been her first. The sound of the steam engine as it drove its’ wheels across the tracks echoed the sound the waves made against the hull of the ship that bore her to London, all those years ago. The crisp taste of the ocean breeze she'd not inhaled in many years and for once in a very long time, she found herself missing the home she'd left behind in Shanghai.</p><p>Cuifen told them all their new home would be Birmingham. Landlocked and farther north than London, Lupe wondered if she'd die there without ever seeing the sea again.</p><p>London hardly counted as a real home, the English Channel more a stream than a true branch of the Atlantic.</p><p>She would not miss the thick industrial grey fog that bore that cursed city down like shackles, nor would she miss the leering of the sailors docked at Canary Wharf, hoping to get serviced for free. The rundown workhouses, the sprawling tenements that stunk of consumption, the streets trod with mud and shit. She figured that at the end of days, God was as like to send London ablaze as he was to save it.</p><p>By no means did Lupe think Birmingham would be the Heaven to London’s Hell; she was called dreamy frequently, but never called stupid. She expected the same coppers who spat curses at her as she walked past, daring her to give them a reason to cart her off to a cell, the same shopkeepers and chemists who barred her from their stores with a glare and a muttered “chinkie”.</p><p>As the train pulled into Rugby station, her same dreamy nature allowed the tiniest flutter of hope to bloom in her chest that her life could be different.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Chinese Quarters, Birmingham, January 1919</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>Truthfully, the only thing different so far was the gawkers who looked at her like they'd never seen a Chinawoman before. She painted the same carmine slick on her mouth every morning, lined her almond-shaped eyes in the same fine soot they made back in Limehouse. Even the porridge tasted the same, salt, ginger, and garlic contrasting the comforting starch of rice on her tongue.</p><p>The madame's footsteps trotted briskly towards the cramped room Lupe shared with Xiaoyu. Their floors were strewn with fresh straw and their window was roughly tacked over with cheap linen that barely softened the bite of the cutting winter breeze.</p><p>"<em>Quickly girls. We've got a new shipment of men coming in today and there's not a moment to waste. Xiu Jia, take the red qipao. Leave the cream one for Xiaoyu."</em>  As suddenly as Cuifen burst in, her wrinkled arms laden with freshly laundered dresses, she disappeared. Black rayon stockings with red seams were liberated from Lupe's trunk, along with a red brassiere and knickers. The dress fit far more snug over her frame than it would over Xiaoyu or Huiyin. There'd been plenty of complaints from the women in Chinatown who'd stitched the dresses but none from the men who frequented her company. She drew her hair from the curled rags she slept in and pinned it up in a way that could be undone quickly and with that, her night began.</p><p>It seemed like the trains ran every hour that day, pouring war-weary soldiers out of the cars like ale. Those with and without wives to greet them swarmed every pub, den, and whorehouse in town. Lupe remembered that England was supposed to have won the war. The men that were brought back could not be called victors by any stretch. Young boys tread frequently underfoot, carrying bags filled with laudanum and morphine with them out into the Birmingham streets. The hospital had run out, and the soldiers who were well enough to return home nearly matched the hospital's demand with their own.</p><p>Many of the boys rejoiced in the comforts of home. Just as many quietly nursed drinks and pipes with their heads down or looked at nothing at all. Every single one of them looked at her with the same sick, haunted, nightmare gaze. Like the stare of the dead rabbit that her mother brought home from the market long ago. Like when she was twelve and found Bingyan underneath the bed, raw bruises around her neck and no breath in her lungs. </p><p>The scent of gunpowder, blood, sweat, and primal fear almost overpowered the drowsy, cloying poppy fumes.</p><p>Lupe's cheeks ached from smiling but she dared not stop. The nameless man from whose lap she perched upon looked at her like a drowning man does land, glazed over muddy brown eyes begging her to make the burdens he came back with (and his pockets) lighter. She let her hands linger delicately on his uniformed chest and briefly turned her head towards the doorway so he might follow the line of her jaw and smell the faint traces of Chinese perfume on her neck.</p><p> </p><p>For one, brief, shining moment, she could smell the sea.</p><p> </p><p>Guadalupe had never seen eyes like that before. Eyes that washed over her like the water did when she was five and carefree, toddling at the beach. She couldn't look away even if she wanted to. It shouldn't have been possible to look at a person like he did, his piercing gaze stripping her down to the dreamy girl she was under the scar tissue and paint. He stood a good head or so taller than her with arched cheekbones and full lips that could put a statue to shame, deep bruised hollows under his eyes that matched hers, and long, fine, calloused hands that she wanted nothing more than to hold. The way he clenched his jaw and his knuckles like he didn't believe he'd made it back alive and this was all real.</p><p>All Lupe wanted to do was to reassure him it was.</p><p>She disentangled herself from the man with muddy eyes who hardly noticed her disappearance.</p><p> </p><p>The soldier boy in the doorway walked towards her.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Note: I'm Chinese and Filipina myself, so I do feel comfortable using slurs like "chinkie/chink" as is historically appropriate. As I am not Roma, nor anything else, any other slurs used in the show like "g***y" will be included but written in asterisks as indicated due to my own personal discomfort with using slurs that are not mine to reclaim.</p><p>Thank you, reader, for enjoying my little labor of love. Feel free to leave a kudos and comment below; the encouragement only makes me type faster.</p><p>The Chinese diaspora in the West, including myself, have both a Western/English name and a Chinese name. Guadalupe, our main character, is referred to by both her Western name and her Chinese name, Xiu Jia/Xiujia.</p><p>The London and Northwestern Railway was an actual railway line that operated in the late 1800s through the earlier half of the 1900s, and connected London and Birmingham through two trains with a transfer at Rugby. See here: http://www.lnwrs.org.uk/Map/index.php</p><p>The Green Gang was a real Shanghai gang/secret society/triad that begun in the 1800s and was operational until the 1950s. They engaged in, among others, the opium/drug trade, heroin refineries, prostitution, and trafficking. They additionally had influence beyond Asia and into the West. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Gang</p><p>The first Chinatown in London was in Limehouse, along the Limehouse Causeway, near Canary Wharf in the East End. In modernity, its' encompassed a significant part of Westminster. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinatown,_London</p><p>Mr. Du refers to Du Yuesheng, a real person in history and a major Roaring Twenties era Shanghai crime boss in the Green Gang. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Du_Yuesheng</p><p>Opium bricks (which were smoked from a pipe), from which morphine, heroin, and laudanum were all manufactured from, was not a primary anaesthetic/drug of choice during World War 1. Alcohol, morphine, and cocaine were, so soldiers most likely came home with a direct addiction to morphine, eventually graduating to opium due to tightened restrictions on morphine. See here: https://encyclopedia.1914-1918-online.net/article/drugs</p><p>The Birmingham Chinese Quarters actually weren't established until the 1960s, and not officially recognized till the 1980s. The show and I have both taken a little creative license there, which I've tried to make slightly more accurate by reducing the Quarters to only a few establishments (the brothel and a pub, amongst others)  See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_Quarter,_Birmingham</p><p> Laudanum was, by the 1910s/1920s, still available at a chemist/druggist. Along with diamorphine, which is also known as heroin, both were considered "healthier", less addictive variants to morphine/opium. The UK had severely restricted opium dens by the later 1910s/early 1920s, so it was much more likely to be addicted to this time period's equivalent of over the counter drugs. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laudanum#History</p><p>After WW1 ended in 1918, all troops were slowly removed from the field in waves in a process known as "demobilization". To match the timeline of the show, I have the Shelby brothers sent home in the beginning of 1919, when Winston Churchill became Minister of War and sped up the demobilization process. See here: https://encyclopedia.1914-1918-online.net/article/demobilization</p><p>A well-written article on the 1920s ladies underwear, which is my source for the brasserie and the knickers. The creative liberty I am taking is omitting the slip, which for a prostitute I imagine would be too many layers of clothing. See here: https://vintagedancer.com/1920s/lingerie-history/</p><p>For Lupe, I've picked rayon stockings, a newly invented material that was very popular for stocking in the inter war period. As described in this article, "Cuban heels" were also popular and stocking seams were a must and could be colored. I imagine Lupe is wearing black stockings with red Cuban heels and red seams. See here: https://vintagedancer.com/1920s/the-various-styles-of-1920s-stockings/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Strangers, pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We're just strangers</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chinese Quarters, Birmingham, January 1919</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Your name, sir?”</p><p>His eyes widened imperceptibly at her words, which only drew Lupe’s attention to the delicate, dark lashes that framed them.</p><p>“Tommy Shelby.”</p><p>She’d heard plenty of Birmingham accents in the few months she’d been here, but never one quite like his. His voice resounded through his chest solid and deep.</p><p>“Well Mr. Shelby, what can we do for you?” There was a soul under all of his sharp edges. A soul just like hers. They’d barely spoken at all but in these brief moments, he made her feel like they were the only two people in the world. Just a man and a woman. Lupe wondered what it would be like to feel that all-encompassing, magnetic focus every day.</p><p>“A room if you’d please.” Tommy pulled closer to her and relaxed his death grip on his uniformed cap. He stood at least a head taller than her and she needed to crane her head up just to keep his gaze.</p><p>“Just the room? Or is there anything else we can…” Her words trailed into almost a whisper. Lupe was thirteen when she learned that trick. To pull a customer even closer. She wanted Tommy closer. Was he as struck by her as she was of him? “...provide.”</p><p>“A woman like you should’ve caught my meaning.”</p><p>With a red-lipped smile, Lupe beckoned him towards the room she’d been assigned for the night. “You’re quite mistaken, Mr. Shelby. There are no women like me.”</p>
<hr/><p>She lit more red candles as he settled his khaki jacket and hat on the divan tucked in the corner. “My name is Guadalupe if you’d care to know.”</p><p>“After ‘The Blessed Virgin’? Interesting name for a whore.” Tommy eyed her up and down as he spoke. She could practically see the intricate machinery that made up Tommy Shelby reevaluating her in his head. Lupe let her fingers pause in their mission of divesting her of her dress in order to skim them over the curve of his cheek as he almost unconsciously leaned into her touch.</p><p>She pulled away, the heat of his body a brand against her fingertips. A quick movement of a hairpin and her polished ebony curls tumbled down her back. “She absolves penitents of their sins. I absolve penitents of a different kind of sin.”</p><p>He murmured into her ear with a hint of both steel and humor as he tucked himself into her side to settle those nimble, rough hands on her waist with far more care than Lupe ever thought a man would touch her with. “And what would you know of my fucking sins?” </p><p>“You carry them about as well as you carry that uniform, Mr. Shelby. Like you carry that firearm by your side. The stories of suffering always differ but it all feels the same.” Her mistake was known in the instant he pulled away from her and she cursed the words that tumbled unbidden from her mouth. Without him near, the icy breeze cut her to the bone. Lupe resisted the urge to drape herself soothingly on the sharp, geometric planes of his back that suddenly faced her, to count the vertebrae that peaked through the back of his shirt with her lips.</p><p>“I didn’t come here to talk about that damned war.”</p><p>She sat on the ornate embroidery of the coverlet and gestured to the empty space next to her. “Then we won’t.” When Tommy finally sat, after a heartbeat of him just standing there, looking like he might flee and never come back, Lupe leaned her head against his broad shoulder. “It never happened. We can just be a man and a woman, sitting on a bed.”</p><p>“... I’d like that.” Hesitantly, he entwined his fingers with her own with a fragility that nearly broke her heart.</p><p>She thought happiness suited him more than the devastation currently painted in the tenseness of his jaw did. “How about you tell me of Tommy Shelby, the man.” Her bitten nails absentmindedly traced the lines and calluses that tracked across his palms.</p><p>“Do you always talk this much?” The war might’ve stolen away what charm Lupe could tell he once had but the teasing lilt in his raspy, accented voice still got her heart racing. Tommy had lowered his face towards her, so close she could see his blown-out pupils, dark with lust, and smell the musk and salt on his skin. The candlelight flickered for a moment and sent warm shadows dancing across that wicked, sinfully generous mouth.</p><p>Ah, but she couldn’t let him have all the fun. “We’ve got all night, Mr. Shelby. Have you considered yet that maybe I’d just like to hear your voice?” A gentle head tilt emphasized the curve of her smile and as she peered innocently through her thick lashes, she saw him bite his lip and inhale sharply-</p><p>His fingers grasped her chin, his mouth fluttering like a butterfly against the corner of her mouth as he spoke.</p><p>“I ain’t one for mindless chatter.” Petal soft kisses were pressed behind her ear, down the fine marble column of her neck, the crook of her shoulder, then the hollow of her collarbone. He would drive her mad if she let him. No matter how pretty he was nor the warmth of the heat he ignited under her skin, she had no intention to let him. Lupe sucked violet blooms under his jaw then lathed the shell of his ear with the flat of her tongue.</p><p>The involuntary moan she wrung from him was well worth it. “But you are one for a mindless shag?” Beneath the fingers she’d settled on his neck, his pulse jumped at the huskiness of her voice.</p><p>“That’s enough backtalk love, you’ve made your point.” Tommy peeled the rest of the silken dress she’d started to undo earlier that evening and let it drift to the floor. With a giggle, she abruptly pulled away from him to unbutton her brassiere just out of reach, tossing a coy look over her shoulder. The way he burned while he watched her… the intensity in him averted her gaze, if only for a heartbeat.</p><p>That momentary submission was taken as the invitation it was. With the grace and agility of a hunter, stalking his prey, he moved to press himself flush to her back, those hands skimming here and there across her body without settling where he knew she wanted him to go. “And what exactly was my point, Mr. Shelby?” </p><p>“Sometimes…” He paused to tuck his face into her soft throat with a deep breath as if he wished to impress her scent and the taste of her skin into his mind and never forget it. “Sometimes I can’t believe I made it back at all.” Tommy didn’t need to say it, but she heard the unspoken <em>especially now</em>. His gruff whisper sounded like something that might be spoken in the sanctity of the confessional. "That I never deserved to." She could hear the thick, poisonous guilt of the survivor in his voice, the self-loathing and raw, tragic humanity he hid under all those rough layers.</p><p>Lupe turned to press his chest against hers and her lips against his. “Then let me absolve you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While I enjoyed writing this sweet, sexy chapter, please believe this story will do well to earn the "Angst with a Happy Ending" tag lol.</p><p>If you liked it or if you have feedback on what I can do better, I welcome you to leave a comment below.<br/>Once again, thank you for reading. While I write for the fulfillment it brings me to bring this story to life, I also write to make other people as enraptured as other fanfiction ensnares me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Acquainted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for the update delay, I struggled with this chapter. Now that we have more of the worldbuilding/exposition/character and relationship development set up, we can progress with the plot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chinese Quarters, Birmingham, April 1919</strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Spring never came to London and it did not come to Birmingham. Any hopes Lupe had had about this new land had been promptly dashed in the months since she’d come here. The constant smoke outside choked in her lungs with the bitter aftertaste of coal fires and melted iron.</p><p>Young lords with a taste for Oriental exoticism, politicians with a love of chinkie submission after the Yihetuan Uprising, and merchants seeking the comforts of home all alike poured through their doors in London, with plenty of coin to line the Gang’s pockets. In Birmingham, they got steelworkers with callused hands here, assembly linemen, stablehands, crafters of delicate chinaware and fine metal pen nibs. Cuifen was forced to expand operations when fleshmongering brought in hardly enough money to break even.</p><p>They now had a legal laundry and an illegal gambling hall with coppers well paid to look the other way.</p><p>After Tommy visited her that memorable first time, Cuifen and Zhang both warned her to stay clear of the Peaky Blinders. Guadalupe had seen her fair share of clashes with the Sabinis’ and Alfie Solomons’ crew but those boys never ventured too far into Chinatown. Birmingham left them exposed and vulnerable at the mercy of gangs they didn’t know and didn’t trust. Of course, the damage had already been done. The day they refused service to the Blinders was the day they would all wake up the next morning in a bed of ashes and kerosene. This patronage would begrudgingly be allowed to continue, to Cuifen’s blunt displeasure.</p><p>Almost like clockwork, Tommy Shelby saw her nearly every Saturday night since his return home and always asked for her by name. She’d had an inkling of his brothers’ existence, an aunt and a little sister in Small Heath as well, but never had the pleasure of making their acquaintance. As if the scrutiny of a rival gang could be called a pleasure.</p><p>It was this that coloured her surprise upon seeing the two younger Shelby brothers both darkening their doorway on a bright Wednesday afternoon, when the Quarters smelled like clean laundry and fresh soap suds. Later that evening sex, opium, and alcohol would lace the air instead. She’d been arranging a nearly endless row of grey woolen suits tagged on the sleeve with black ink calligraphy on creamy white rice paper when they came in. </p><p>John was hardly striking at all. Definitely not when compared against his brother, with eyes like dirty snow and the face and ears of a particularly experienced boxer. Where Tommy was a statue, ice-cold and razor-sharp, John had the frame of a rugby player with those ruddy cheeks and stubby fists. This man looked more at home with blood on his teeth and mud on his hands than he did now, scrubbed clean in a fresh, if not outdated suit. She had knocked lesser men out for looking at her the way he looked at her, full of naked desire and entitlement that left a grimy feeling on her skin.</p><p>“Misters Shelby, how can I be of assistance to you today?” A smile stretched her cheeks, genuine for Tommy and full of teeth for his brother. Beneath the safe cover of the front counter, Lupe’s anxious hands worried at the loose threads of her skirt. Tommy met her gaze briefly and wrinkled the corners of his eyes in the barest of smiles.</p><p>He set a handful of pounds down on the rich varnished wood. “Just the suits, Lupe-”</p><p>John abruptly cut in. “We’ll take you as well, won’t we Tommy.” One didn’t make it long in the industry she found herself in without recognizing that wolf edge to his devil-may-care grin and the danger it promised. Lupe dropped her smile as quickly as she could. As she reached up on the tips of her toes to pull the suits down, a loose lock of dark hair slipped out of her messy chignon and brushed against the pale back of her neck.</p><p>A sheathe of waxen paper was cut free from the bolt and laid out with paperweights. Just as her hand reached out to fold the first suit into the paper, a sweaty palm with busted open knuckles grabbed her wrist and yanked her nose to nose with John. “I said we’d take you as well. Can you not understand the King’s English?” The derision in his tone was as thick as tar. Maybe he was only used to shrieking slags who jumped at the smallest glare, right proper English roses. Maybe he thought because she’d fucked his brother he could cow her into fucking him too. Maybe John thought a little Chinawoman like her could be battered and thrown around like a doll to the tune of his will. Fury crystallized beneath her skin.</p><p>She’d make him bleed like a pig if he tried, Peaky Blinders be damned.</p><p>Lupe’s snarl echoed into the nearly-empty hall, as dead and cold as an amputated limb. “I don’t give a fuck who your brother is. Touch me again with that hand, Mr. Shelby, and I’ll remove it from your wrist with your own blade. Free of charge.” The iron grip around her wrist loosened out of shock. She grabbed his arm and yanked him even closer, her fingers held fast by her pointed, blood-red nails buried deep in his pink flesh. His pulse beat as fast as her own did, in the heavy rhythm of a fluttering bird. Whores like her weren’t given respect; they had to demand it, snatch it back from a world that would break them otherwise.</p><p>A single tense minute passed, then two as she refused to be cowed by the fire that simmered under his heavy set brow and in the mouth flattened into a straight line. Just as his eyes turned murderous and John’s hand twitched for his peaked cap- </p><p>The solid mass of Tommy’s chest and the faint scent of his cologne moved between them. “John, enough. Outside.” She figured her survival instincts ran off a few minutes ago only to return with a vengeance right that instant, solely to bead anxious sweat down her spine. Ah, here was the face of a predator the moment it locked its jaws around prey. “For somethin’ like what you jus’ did, love, I’ve beat men twice your size bloody.” He was testing her. The unspoken words were clear; tread carefully, or his Shelby temper would blow like a landmine. There was something more in the peering way he regarded her, more than a warning. How interesting was it that two spots of color migrated high on those marble cheeks and his heart seemed to beat out of his chest. His lips parted unconsciously. Predators always regarded their prey with the deep hunger that seemed to emanate from his stance… was it possible she’d impressed him? Fascinating.</p><p>Oh, these fucking blokes hadn’t a clue of what she was capable of, what she noticed, the chinks in their armor she could claw at. Tommy might be a landmine, but she only did collateral damage. “I’m not exactly a man, am I? And you won’t do that.” The abandoned task of wrapping up their suits was resumed. Cuifen would have told her it was smarter to back down, to kowtow and let him walk over her. Lupe was paid to do that, after all. He, however, had a talent of getting under her skin and heating her blood.</p><p>It seemed she had impressed him after all. “Why’s that?” His voice deepened more in the manner of a lover’s than someone who’d gut her throat to belly. The two were often the same.</p><p>“You love things that are wild and dangerous, Mr. Shelby. You play with fire, broken glass, live ammunition. And that’s why you’ll let me be, if only for the thrill of knowing that the day you beat me bloody is the day I’ll take your trachea out with me.” Her mouth stretched thin as the blade of a knife in a facsimile of a smirk. He looked like he might kiss her then thought better of it. That smart man thought rightfully so. She herself wasn’t sure if she’d let him or savage his lip between her teeth until it bled. Live wire pricked her nerves. Lupe accused him of playing with fire and here she was, playing with lightning. From where she’d daintily dug the tips of her nails into his carotid artery during her little speech, she could feel the blood flowing faster under her fingertips, could see him shift his stance like there was something uncomfortable in his… lower extremities.</p><p>Tommy stood there for a moment in stunned silence before pulling away as if she’d branded him. A deep breath to fortify him and an elegant sweep of the paper-wrapped package into his broad arms later, he tipped his razor-lined cap without ever breaking eye-contact. “Ms. Zhang, we’ll see about that. Good day.” With that, he took his leave, a gift of one last smoldering gaze following behind him.</p><p>“Good day.” Lupe hardly moved at all. She just watched him go, the nauseating anxiety of exactly what she'd just done keeping her at a standstill. Five minutes later Xiaoyu wandered in from their room, chattering on and on about the latest gossip from Limehouse. When she didn’t react, just stared at the door he’d disappeared out of like Lupe hadn’t even heard Xiaoyu’s chirping, she reached over and checked what her brothel-sister had been doing previously, neatly spotting the receipt on the counter next to the pounds and the tags that previously belonged to the suits. No one could have missed Xiaoyu’s high pitched shriek. It nearly pierced the eardrums of everyone within the building.</p><p>“<em>Sister, what the fuck did you do? </em>” The sound was enough to jolt Lupe from her determined thousand-yard stare. Cuifen ran in from the dining hall as if summoned by the racket, bringing Shulan with her. She’d been all bite earlier but faced down by her sisters she was only bark.</p><p>“<em>Why do you always think I did something?</em>” It took ounces of restraint to keep her from stomping off to their room and shutting the door as tight as she could. Christ, they could always figure out how to embarrass her. Lupe moved hastily away from them, a neat tuck of her chin allowing her to avoid their mocking smirks.</p><p>“<em>Because you were just-</em>” From the corner of her eye she could see Cuifen open her mouth, about to cut in, certainly with the intent to rake her over the proverbial coals. Xiaoyu kept on with her rant, punctuated by the occasional giggle, her hands emphatically waving around that damned tag with the Shelby name in Liangliang’s lazy calligraphy.</p><p>The combined pressure was enough to make her snap at them. “<em>Of course I didn’t do anything! Stop looking at me like that! </em>” Their collective laughter finally chased Guadalupe out of the room and off to quiet, unoccupied safety.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Yihetuan Uprising refers to the Boxer Rebellion of 1899-1901, which Lupe, though she would've been born during this era, would definitely have heard about. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boxer_Rebellion</p><p>Birmingham in the late 1800s and early 1900s, during and post Industrial Revolution, was very famous for their manufacturing, notably their manufacturing of pen nibs. See here: https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-main-diferences-between-London-and-Birmingham<br/>https://www.rhnuttall.co.uk/blog/birminghams-manufacturing-history/</p><p>During the first season of the show Tommy &amp; co wear outdated, plain grey woolen suits with some Edwardian coats. They're working class boys from Birmingham, so they don't quite have the full suave suits of the a la mode 1920s gentlemen they are in the later seasons. See here: https://vintagedancer.com/1920s/peaky-blinders-outfit-costume/</p><p>The Rugby Football Union was formed in 1871 - by 1919, it's entirely plausible that Lupe &amp; others would know about rugby and rugby players. See here: https://www.exiles.dk/cms/ShowContentPage.aspx?ContentPageID=15</p><p>Lupe's nail shape and varnish here is creative liberty. While manicures and first, initial nail polish available to the public to purchase date to the late 1800s, the nail lacquer that we recognize today (and was popular with flappers of the time) was invented in the 1920s and perfected by 1932, where it was sold widely under the newly formed company Revlon. However, the drama of a good blood red manicure was too much to resist. Please forgive this slight inaccuracy. See here: https://www.byrdie.com/history-of-nail-polish</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Nightcall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's something about you... it's hard to explain</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm alive! Sorry for the extremely delayed update. Hopefully, the next one won't take as long.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Holy Family Parish, Small Heath, June 1919</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>“So you’re Tommy’s bird.” That harsh, low, womanly voice pulled Lupe away from her rosary and the Hail Mary’s she’d been muttering under her breath. Polly Gray stood in front of her with black lace draped over her bound hair, hands on her hips and fury simmering beneath her gaze. Perhaps it was a Shelby trait.</p><p>It appeared there was no removing herself from this conversation Lupe had no desire to perpetuate. She abandoned her prayers and tucked the rosary neatly into the band of her navy skirts. “I’m no man’s bird.” There was something about Polly that put her on edge, made her shift in the carved pews like a chastised child. The older woman’s face was set in a mask reminiscent of the woman who’d beaten Lupe and the other girls when they stepped out of line, on that long, terrible journey to England.</p><p>“Fancy finding you here. I wasn’t aware that any of you people had ever stepped inside a church.” Lupe figured Polly’s sneer could be seen clear all the way to London. Would it be better to avoid provoking her? Maybe, but after the events of yesterday with John, Guadalupe had very little patience left for any upstart Shelbys’ with cat piss in their tea. The urge to fight, to claw and scratch and scream at someone, anyone, bloomed up her spine and heated her cheeks.</p><p>Lupe would never disrespect the saviour by slapping someone in one of his houses, however. Adopting her own mask of tremulous, blatantly false innocence, she retorted. “Our Lady the Magdelene would happily welcome her sisters into the loving bosom of Jesus Christ.” Oh, she knew perfectly well who Polly was referring to when she said “you people”. The accusation and judgment in those pursed lips… she could see where John got the attitude from. It would be best for her to extract herself before she pissed Tommy’s aunt off too much and found a pig’s head in her bed. She gently pressed the covers of the bible she’d brought with her from Shanghai together before extracting herself from the carved pew. “My name is Guadalupe Zhang. It’s been a pleasure, Miss...?” Guadalupe never professed to be a saint, and sometimes the temptation to rile someone up grew too strong to resist. Temptations were why she went to Mass every week, after all.</p><p>Ms. Gray sought the last word with a curt acknowledgment. “Careful there, lass.” With the way her luck was turning Lupe would run into Tommy’s older brother and littlest sister too, with the way these fucking Peaky Blinders kept popping out of the woodwork.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Chinese Quarters, Birmingham, June 1919</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>After he’d taken his pleasure, Tommy always lingered behind. She hadn’t a clue why and figured it was one of the many things that made him the most unique man Lupe had ever entertained. She could feel his icy stare as it traced the movement of her fingers weaving her tangled black hair into a plait. A gaze like that made her feel like he was peeling her skin back and peering at her insides with clinical fascination. “Polly says she ran into you at church this morn.” Ah, she was waiting for him to inquire about that particular incident. Her head turned to look at him, propped up next to her in bed with linen covers bunched around his scar-marked bare torso.</p><p>The truth would be the right answer, she could see it in his face. Nodding, Lupe spoke. “Aye, I was there. I was pleased to make her acquaintance.”</p><p>“A church?” The incredulous edge that bled into his voice roused her temper, so on edge, once more.</p><p>“Is that so unbelievable? That I might wish to bask in the light of the savior?” Maybe it was how she had to defend herself against his aunt, maybe it was how he made her lower her boundaries, get attached, get riled up. Maybe it was the way he saw through the tricks and saw the person she was under the paint and the snide remarks. Maybe it was the way he saw her as his equal, which made Lupe want to tell him everything.</p><p>He could read her like an open book. Those hands which had done so much to her an hour ago raised to brush tenderly against her cheek. “I meant no offense, Guadalupe. I’ve only been as far as No Man’s Land in France. I didn’t know God’s lands extended to China.” Such tenderness… he moved as if she’d shriek and push him away at the slightest trace of sincere affection. Was Tommy so starved? That beautiful man nearly flinched when she brought her own hand up, only to relax when all she did was brush a stray, sweat-damp curl off his jaw and tuck it behind the shell of his ear. Blue eyes met brown, and she couldn’t help the feeling he was baring his soul to her, in some way he had never done before.</p><p>Guadalupe had never felt close to anyone in her life like she felt close to him. If what she was about to do was a mistake, she was prepared to face the consequences. “They don’t. Not really-” Her voice trailed off for a moment, hesitating to give him the chance to end this moment. “My father is a sailor. Or was. I’ve no bloody clue where he is now. You ever heard of the Spanish East Indies? An East Indies man in Shanghai, by way of the American Navy. That’s all my mother ever told me of him. She worked an opium den out there, turning tricks. One thing led to another… He didn’t stay for long, but he did have me baptized. I haven’t missed a day of church since, except when they uh… they brought me here. It almost sounds like a practical joke, doesn’t it? The man who made me left me behind, yet I cling to everything he left me. God forgive me.” She laughed at herself, at the foolish little girl she still was inside who dreamed of a family that wouldn’t treat her as her real one had.</p><p>Tommy moved quickly out of bed to come to sit at her side. The gentleness in his face was so bright it was almost unbearable to look at. “If it is a joke, it’s not very funny to me.”</p><p>Most surely he could read the relief written plain across her own, she thought. That must be it. There could be no other reason why he would- She cut her own thoughts off. “Guadalupe Zhang. That’s what he named me. I can’t help but think every night that the path I’m on… he would be ashamed of it.”</p><p>The silence hung heavy between them until he broke it. “My dad left too. First, it was petty thievery, and the constables keeping him overnight at the station. Then it was drinking, the opium, the birds he spent all day and night with. Every time he left he wouldn’t come back for longer. Until one night he never came back at all.” It was her turn now to comfort her. Lupe tucked her arms around the broad plains of his body and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. It took him a moment, a moment in which she was terrified he would push her away, but he returned the embrace. She marveled at the pace his pulse was beating beneath her hands. Like he’d just ran all the way to London and back. He cleared his throat. “How’d you end up here?”<br/>
<br/>
Ah, she couldn’t hold back her giggle at his obvious parry. The answering smile on his face was glorious, even enchanting. Lupe hoped to make him smile more. “On a boat, what’d you think? However, that’s a story for another night. I just told you most of my sordid past. Now you owe me, Tommy.” Could he hear the meaning she hid beneath her flirty teasing? The way Lupe begged him to offer himself up to her in the same manner she had?<br/>
<br/>
Tommy did. The same vulnerability that entered him earlier, when he’d caressed her cheek, washed over the man again. His jaw came alight with tension and she found the way he picked at his nails in anxiety almost charming. “Every night, I dream. I have these dreams that- that convince me I’m not home. That I never came home. I swear I left a piece of my life back there, buried with the bodies in the tunnels we dug. I see him. Just a boy. Not much older than Johnny. He might’ve shot me dead, and I promise you sometimes I wish he would have, but he tripped. And I just looked down at him and he looked up at me. I smashed his fucking head in like an egg. Guadalupe, my soul is rotted through. I’m terrified it’s black as sin and it’ll never be clean again. The things I did- the boys I killed. In my mind’s eye, I see them die, over and over and over. Until the mildewed blood and bone from their bodies chokes me and I wake up, tearing at my throat.” He had struck her speechless. Lupe couldn’t pretend to know at all how he felt, what it was like to carry the weight of hundreds of dead souls on her back. Did what he did during the war matter? Maybe, but she was only a woman. Not a saint. She pressed herself to him firmer, trying her very best to show him, prove to him he had come back. The way she did the first time she’d met him. No one had ever trusted her with anything precious in the way he had. She would kill for trust like that. Lupe would die before she betrayed it. Her forehead pressed against his, forcing his eyes to look back at her. You’re here, she told him in her mind. Come back to me. All will be well, sweet boy. He could tell exactly what she wouldn’t say and melted into her arms.</p><p>“Oh Thomas… I’m happy you’re alive.” She pressed her mouth against his.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Holy Family Parish is a real Catholic church in Small Heath, founded in the 1920s! See here: https://www.holyfamilyparishbirmingham.co.uk/about</p><p>Mary Magdalene, Jesus's most faithful apostle, is said to have been a prostitute. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Magdalene</p><p>From the 1800s to 1901, the Philippines was under Spanish colonial control and known as part of the Spanish East Indies. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_East_Indies</p><p>The Yangtze Patrol was an American naval operation from 1854 to 1949 wherein American naval ships patrolled the Yangtze River and the ports along it, including Shanghai. See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yangtze_Patrol</p><p>The children of American military fathers and Asian mothers have typically throughout history been left behind in China by their fathers, unable to claim US citizenship and stigmatized by the war and colonialism. While these children are most common in the Philippines, I took some creative liberties (which are likely not all that creative - it's entirely possible that American soldiers left children with prostitutes wherever they went). See here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amerasian</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Weekend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You say you got a girl...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Chinese Quarters, September</strong> <strong>1919</strong></p><p>Her devilish man was making plans. Something rotten was brewing in Small Heath and she didn’t like it, not one bit. Tommy knew how to look at her and how to pitch his voice so she would melt and that was almost as discomforting as knowing he was after something. After buying them dinner, he buttered her up so imperceptibly it would have likely worked on anyone - except her. She knew him far too well to fall for it. Even knowing that didn’t stop her from telling him what he wanted; inane gossip about the other girls, who they saw, what they were like. A lesser woman would have been jealous. Her? Well, she was merely interested in seeing how his assuredly harebrained scheme played out.</p><p>Just interested.</p><p>Surprisingly, for someone as dreamy and romantic as Lupe, jealousy was a foreign emotion. One might think she would have swooned for the first employer that promised her the stars and the moon, and every single man after. However, the brothel had all but stamped it out in her; the price to share a client with another girl at the same time was a lucrative incentive.</p><p>Thomas Shelby was a man a girl could justifiably get jealous over.</p><p>He paid and tipped generously, made the act pleasurable enough while chasing his own peak, and wasn’t half-bad to look at. Lupe couldn’t deny it rankled her to have him asking after Huiyin and Xiaoyu, asking who they saw, what services they were known for. He was even more interested in hearing about little Mei, Zhang’s daughter, then he was in Lupe. A sharp change of pace from the last few times they had seen each other.</p><p>Mei had a… reputation in Birmingham, a reputation for certain things like reading tea leaves and telling you with unnerving accuracy when your horse would die. What use would Tommy, a man who barely set foot in a church except to induce others to sin, have for a slip of a girl like that?</p><p>“Does it matter, Guadalupe?” He’d said to her with an amused huff. Of course, it did. If she lost him out to another girl… There were countless others who’d arrived at the Quarters since she had. Skinnier, prettier, younger. Oh, she knew she wasn’t the only girl Tommy saw with any frequency but until that moment she’d managed a decent job at not thinking about the matter. Lupe changed the subject and the moment was forgotten by Tommy, but not by her.</p><p>It was this frustration that stewed deep inside of her that caused Cuifen to sit her down, two cups of green tea steaming between them. “<em> Enough, Xiu Jia. I’ll not have any more immature tantrums out of you. I shouldn’t have to tell you this but you’re far too old for such antics.” </em></p><p>Lupe was a grown woman of twenty. “<em> I’m sorry Cuifen, what the fuck? How dare you?” </em>Was this God’s punishment for losing her temper so frequently in recent days? There was something maddeningly smug about Cuifen’s demeanor as the madam calmly sipped at the hot tea as if her outburst proved something. It didn’t prove anything!</p><p>“<em> I dare because he’s just a man. A white man at that. You seem to have forgotten yourself, bird. I let you have your freedom as long as it doesn’t mess with business. You and Thomas? Just business. Do your best to remember that this time. I won’t give you another warning.” </em> The last time Cuifen slapped Lupe across the face had been years ago when she was younger and prone to acting out, but she seemed like to do it again now in the face of Lupe’s disrespect. Hot rage bled into her muscles and her nails bit wounds into the palms of her hands. There was nothing she would not do to get Cuifen to shut up-</p><p>She’d forgotten one very important thing; to the Gang, she wasn’t even a person. Tommy reminded her what it was to be human, but such luxuries were only granted to people who weren’t whores. As long as anyone so much as knew Lupe sold herself for money, Cuifen and the Green Gang would keep her leashed like a dog in the street. “<em> I’m sorry. I forgot myself. Mr. Shelby and I are just business.” </em></p><p>“<em> Good girl </em>.” The older woman across the table took her tea with her as she left, leaving that lone, pointed comment hanging behind her. Guadalupe was typically capable of seeing the benefits of her life, herself, her profession and the people around her. She felt at that moment the immense drawback of feeling so deeply for someone, the drawback of being capable of feeling that attached to anyone at all.</p><hr/><p>The ruckus next morning woke her just in time to see Tommy Shelby, perched like a warrior of old on a ridiculously massive white stallion, trotting to a halt in the main courtyard of the Quarters. He looked as dashing as the Devil and twice as dangerous, with fresh razors flashing through the threadbare fabric of his peaked cap. The sun, which was permanently obscured with industrial smoke, deepened the hollows beneath his cheekbones into a skeletal false smile. Mr. Zhang dragged Mei out by the arm, the poor girl clutching a pouch of white powder with a death grip, her brown eyes wide with terror at the fearsome sight in front of her. A few words and some coins later and Mei blew powder straight into the face of the stallion which nearly reared up and kicked her in the face. She fled almost the second her father released his hold on her arm.</p><p>Lupe knew Tommy saw her, saw the white robe she’d wrapped herself in. He turned the great beast around without another word nor a glance her direction and left the way he came.</p><p>The slight rankled her. Xiaoyu linked a slender arm with her own curvier arm, chattering away in her ear about that horse and what spell Mei put on it and what was in that powder. Lupe was far too busy sulking and cursing Tommy under her breath to pay her much mind. The sight of Zhang and Cuifen, having a harsh, whispered argument silenced Xiaoyu abruptly and stopped the girls in their tracks. They moved to tuck themselves behind a nearby brick wall, out of sight but close enough to overhear the conversation. </p><p>She peeked around the corner so Lupe could just barely see them. “<em> We’re going to go under, Zhang, if we don’t do something. Anything else.” </em> The madam’s face was a study in urgency. Her hands worried at each other, wringing frantically with the same tension in her voice. What were they talking about? Go under? They saw more clients than ever now that they had established regulars.</p><p>While she could only see Zhang’s back, his shoulders stiff and guarded, his whispered voice sounded as clear as if he were next to them. <em> “What can we do? There’ll be policemen crawling every inch of this fucking city. Kill the opium. Now.” </em> The real profit of their brothel was opium. Come for the girls, stay for the prime quality imported Chinese opium and the laudanum in unregulated doses. Out in Birmingham, they had no competitors and plenty of demand.</p><p>Xiaoyu, her curious, flighty, childish brothel-sister reached out and clutched her hand, fear tightening the younger girl’s grip. <em> “And let the brothel die? Go back on our contract with the Gang? We’ll be lucky if they let us escape Birmingham alive.” </em>Cuifen spat back as she flipped through the ledger book in her palms, pointing at unintelligible characters as if to prove her point. The Green Gang had always kept them in stock of food and customers; she’d lived through plenty of lean times but nothing as dire as the two people in front of her made it seem. They were alone out here and surrounded by unfriendly faces who wished to either use them or chase them out. Without business, without help, and with some brand new copper watching their every move, come autumn they would starve. The girl at her side tugged at her hand.</p><p>“<em> Let’s go, Xiujia. Please? I want to go-” </em> Xiaoyu spoke, a sob building in her voice. What could Lupe say? How could she begin to comfort her when she didn’t know how to comfort herself? With a nod, she led the smaller girl back to the laundry. Xiaoyu was so young; only sixteen. She was too little to remember the year they lived off congee when they weren’t allowed to leave Chinatown at all, not even to buy meat or fresh vegetables. When filth ran in their London streets and coppers beat anyone who tried to escape. When their sailors and maids were turned away at the docks and fancy mansions. Things would never be different, and it was foolish to have ever hoped they would.</p><p><em> “Little sister, all will be well. We’ll find a way to keep going. We always have.” </em> Lupe soothed. Now wasn’t the time to frighten the other girl with talk of what was to come. They hurried back towards the laundry, feet flying like birds.</p><p>A smile forced its way onto Xiaoyu’s face. If there was anything that would distract her, it would be gossip. <em> “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Come on, big sister, what do you think that regular of yours was doing here?” </em> Tommy. What was he doing there this morning? What did he want? What was he involving them all in? That man would damn them all, involving them in his schemes. Her sister’s eyes practically begged Lupe to respond, so she hurried to speak.</p><p><em> “Probably something with that horse and some bet-” </em>  The horse. The bet. That’s what he was fucking doing. The spell. An enchantment on the horse to throw the bookies at the race tracks. That fucking man. She cursed him with all the fervor she was capable of managing. God set a devil to walk the Earth when he made Tommy Shelby, Lupe was positive. Everyone knew Billy Kimber ran the books at the racetrack with an iron grip and a loaded gun. She didn’t know exactly what Tommy was up to, what he thought he’d get by bucking Kimber’s authority, but Tommy was always more hellion than good Catholic boy. If he placed them in the middle of a war with the Kimber boys… They would all die for his folly. The next time she saw him, Lupe swore she’d tear three strips out of his back.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Weeks later, 1919</strong>
</p><p>There was no next time. After the horrible, awful day, when the opium dried up and that horse lost the race Tommy had tried to push it to win, he never came back.</p><p>She waited, she rejected every man who made eyes at her, but Tommy never darkened her doorstep in the following weeks. He’d abandoned her when it suited him and his plots. Guadalupe was a fool to have thought he’d somehow be different. Some sweet pillow talk and he was hers forever? She scoffed at herself, tears welling up in her eyes. Her fingers nimbly swiped them away before the damp could ruin her kohl. The feeling of abandonment magnified tenfold and threatened to swallow her whole. Just like her father, her mother, everyone. Everyone left in the end. Tommy hadn’t even promised to stay, and like the idiot she was, she hoped he would.</p><p>He didn’t even come back to say goodbye.</p><p>If Tommy wasn’t going to see her, she’d go to him. She deserved it. Lupe pulled the shawl around her shoulders tighter, as if by doing so she could ward off the spiral her mind swept away in, a spiral of loneliness and devastation. She moved quickly through the streets of Small Heath. Determination drove her feet, even when her mind was lost and wandering. Everyone knew the Peaky Blinders frequented the Garrison and only the men who worked in their factories drank there. With a small ounce of luck, she would be able to find someone who knew where Tommy was haunting. With a lot more luck, she might find Tommy himself.</p><p>The Garrison loomed just around the corner, the awning reflecting hints of the afternoon sun. It was quiet now for a pub. That should’ve been a warning, but Lupe always disregarded danger. She hurried towards the doorstep. There, with her hand about to press the mottled glass door open and with a view of Tommy sitting alone through the window, she heard it.</p><p>A voice. A woman’s voice. Singing like an angel, walking this mortal plane. Guadalupe moved away from the door so she could press her face against the window with her body tucked well out of sight.</p><p>The woman was beautiful. Beautiful in a way Lupe could never be. Sunshine blonde curls and a soft, sweet, peaches and cream complexion. A serenity in her face that could rival the Virgin Mary. Incandescent</p><p>And Tommy…</p><p>Tommy was transfixed by the English Rose in front of him. In that instant, Lupe knew why he hadn’t come to see her. How could she ever compete with that?</p><p>To feel so deeply for someone and watch them feel for someone else... She’d rather never feel at all. All Lupe ever wanted was for someone to stay. Instead, she had to watch him leave and stay for someone else.</p><p>She'd lost him. Cuifen was right. It was all just business. Tears ran down her face as she turned and fled back towards the Quarters, and the woman in the Garrison kept singing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While there were no Chinatown riots in London in this time period, race riots were becoming common across the world, especially in America, during this time period. I embellished for dramatic effect.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Be Your Shadow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kiss me with a fist, it's alright</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I'm not super proud of this chapter but I figured I needed to post something. Plus, it advances the plot. Hope you guys like it! Please leave a review and tell me what you think, they inspire me to write faster.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Why?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did she care so much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Cuifen sensed something was wrong, for when Lupe returned to the laundry she was met with a bottle of whiskey and a glass tucked away on a corner table for privacy. She happily took the madame up on her offer and spent the rest of the night in alcohol-induced contemplation, for once not pressured into working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That woman, whoever she was, seemed half an angel sent from heaven. Tommy must have grown tired of living in sin, Guadalupe mused. If she was honest with herself, there was always going to be someone better out there for him. Someone kinder, prettier, more devout, with light hair and light eyes. A body not carved from scar tissue and tragedy. Virginal and pure. Who spoke the right kind of English and could produce good English babies. That someone would never be Lupe. She wasn’t enough for her father to stay, to protect her from her mother. She wasn’t good enough for her mother to keep her with her in Shanghai. The only time anyone looked at her twice was when she spread her legs. Who wouldn’t be ashamed of a woman like her? Glass after glass of whiskey burned down her throat. Giddiness fogged up her brain and she found herself laughing, at her pathetic self, at Tommy, at the stupid men who lined up to get their cocks wet and the stupid girls who’d do anything for a coin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moping was hardly her style. With that thought in mind, she pulled herself away from the empty liquor bottle. Tommy, no, Thomas had made no promises and she was no fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A line of cocaine later and Lupe felt like she could swallow the world whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocaine was a funny drug that did funny things to her nerves. Oh, she tried to stay away from its’ siren call, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The moment it went up her nose all her sadness poured right out of her and was replaced with unadulterated euphoria. The awful hollow in her stomach that had remained since she saw Tommy and his little songbird filled right up with vitality and a peculiar sense of power. Almost against her will, the depressed stupor she stuck herself in lifted. What would it be like to feel this way all the time? To never have to feel another loss, another abandonment, instead only joy and warmth, only belonging?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had half a mind to find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Lupe painted kohl around her eyes like armor, picked out the thinnest wisp of silk to wear, and dove into the brothel’s fray like a knight going into battle. Man after man passed through her sheets, white line after white line disappeared up her nose. She was removed from all of it. Lupe did not feel a single thing. For a woman who always felt too much, too much pain, too much sadness, this was a welcome change of pace. As long as she kept feeling this odd, woozy, disconnected joy, Guadalupe was happy. Perhaps she could never have Mr. Shelby, but that was alright, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, the thrice-damned Shelby family could hardly allow her a moment of peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She woke up the next morning with a vicious headache and a raw throat in the filthiest sheets she had ever seen. The rough linen was quickly gathered up and packed off to the laundry, where Meihua, who was on washing duty that day, pulled them out of Lupe’s hands with a giggle at all the activity that happened on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, her nose ached. In a grimy mirror, she spotted a speck of dried blood above her lip and rubbed it away before anyone else could see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The madame quickly shepherded Guadalupe and the rest of the girls towards the bath, as she always did, pressing hard chunks of brown lye soap into their hands. One by one they scrubbed themselves clean of the brutal night before. Once they were all as free of grime as could be managed, the madame sent them all out on their respective errands for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a moment passed after Lupe stepped out of the brothel before she was accosted by another Shelby. This time, it appeared Ada Shelby, the youngest, desired to make her acquaintance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help.” Desperation was written across the poor girl’s face, her large brown eyes accentuated by the large hollows underneath them. Her thin lips were bitten raw, from anxiety or habit Lupe could not tell. Ada’s fingers twisted the worn sleeves of her coat with hypnotic rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took pity on the girl. “What exactly is it that I can help you with, Miss Shelby?” Her voice was as friendly as Lupe could make it. The lass was clearly in a state. Did something happen? Lupe unconsciously straightened her blouse and smoothed out her skirt in nervous anticipation. Cocaine always made her feel like this the morning after, nerves raw and prone to hysterics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ada leaned in closer as if she feared someone else hearing what she had to say. “I… am in a predicament. It is said you and your kind can help me get out of it. I’m in the family way.” Ah, there it was. A child in the belly was hardly an uncommon sight in a brothel. Her establishment was not an exception to this rule. As a result, they had to have on hand cures for such ailments that could put a good whore out of work for seven or eight months, perhaps longer if she wanted to keep the child. Such a situation would not be tolerated. They always kept in plentiful stock dried tansy for tea, to prevent pregnancy or induce a miscarriage. Lupe even happened to know where it was. She’d never needed to use it, thanks be to God, but Xiaoyu had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless of how she felt towards Ada’s brothers, a woman in need was a woman in need. Lupe knew girls like them had precious few allies and could use all the help they could get. She’d even ignore that comment about “your kind”, no doubt their Aunt Polly’s influence. “Worry not. I’ll help you, free of charge. Mind you, don’t let your brothers know where you got it from or they’ll have my head.” She moved with haste as she spoke, tucking Ada’s hand underneath her elbow and rushing her through the back entrance, where they hauled soap in for the laundry. Hardly anyone was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the girls had already scattered for their chores, and Cuifen was tucked in her office, tallying earnings from the previous night. “Now remember, tansy only works if you’ve been pregnant for a short time, perhaps a few weeks. Beyond that, there’s no guarantee of success.” Guadalupe cautioned. “Wait here.” She left Ada at the door to the kitchens and ducked inside. Atop the lit stoves bubbled fresh congee, available for anyone who wanted something to eat outside of mealtimes. Urgency informed her movements. The longer Ada stayed within the Quarters, the higher the chance someone could see her. This was a possibility that could not come to pass. It would bring on all sorts of questions from the Blinders, inquiring exactly what their precious princess was doing in a rival’s territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl in question looked on the verge of tears, pale with a trembling mouth. She felt the drive to protect her, shield Ada a little longer from the cruelties of the world. Naivety was a precious commodity and it seemed like she had it in spades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glistening wooden cabinets lined the walls of the kitchen, filled with all sorts of spices and seeds. Star anise, five-spice powder, deep crimson chilies. The hallway was dimly lit with lanterns and persistently smelled of cooking grease and garlic. The cabinet within which medicinal herbs could be found lay in the farthest corner. Pennyroyal, tansy, chamomile, ginseng, and licorice all found a home there. Lupe filled a few small tea sachets with tansy to the brim, then offered them to Ada. “Brew one of these with a single cup of boiling water, and drink the concoction twice a day. Be careful; if you start bleeding excessively you must see a doctor immediately. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl’s chestnut brown curls bounced around her heart-shaped face as she nodded. “I do.” Ada’s fingers snatched the packets from Lupe’s grip and tucked them quickly into her pale coat. “Thank you. I mean it. Promise you won’t tell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise. Run along now, quickly.” Ada didn’t need to be told twice. She scurried off and away, disappearing like a fairy around the corner in the weak sunlight. Guadalupe wished her well in her heart and sent out a quiet prayer that the babe in the girl’s stomach would go on to Heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scream, sharp and urgent, rand through the halls. Someone had started screaming. Glass shattered next, then pleas for help echoed from the front of the building. What was happening? Between the ache in her head and her muscles, and the sneaking she just did for Ada Shelby, it seemed like this day would never end. She closed up the cabinet doors as fast as she could, promptly hurrying towards the commotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiaoyu suddenly appeared practically out of thin air, sprinting from her chamber and collapsing straight into Lupe. Her face was a study in horror, her eyes filled with tears. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Run! Xiujia, please, run. Go, you need to go right now-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She steadied the distraught woman, digging her fingers into her shoulders to keep her from fleeing before someone could explain what was going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me what’s happening! What’s wrong?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Lupe commanded. The words that poured out of Xiaoyu’s mouth chilled her to the bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Police. They’re here. They’re rounding everyone up. Cuifen has already been carted away. You need to go, you can’t be caught, we have to flee. Please, come with me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Terror shot up her spine. Police. That could only mean one thing. Mr. Zhang’s fears came true. Every single one of them would be hunted down like beasts and sent to rot in a jail cell. If they were lucky, they’d only be deported with the clothes on their backs, left at the mercy of the Green Gang back home. If they weren’t lucky, they’d be sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Both options were the stuff of nightmares. The life she’d built, the friends she had, even Tommy… All of it gone in an instant. They both knew what kind of treatment they faced at the hands of ruthless coppers; beatings, gropings, rapes, murder if they weren’t lucky. The old scars running up and down her back and legs tingled at the thought of a repeat experience. Bruised knees from kneeling on shit-stained cobblestones, bruises blooming on their cheeks from a backhand, wrists rubbed raw from the handcuffs. It would take a miracle from God himself to see them through this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guadalupe steeled herself. Her English was the best of all the girls. What kind of monster would she be if she abandoned everyone else and ran in their time of need? Without Cuifen, the prostitutes would be lost and even more vulnerable to the whims of men who hated their very existence, who wouldn’t hesitate to beat them to a bloody pulp then charge the girls for getting blood on their uniforms. That’s how Chenguang died, choking on her own blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of the woman who’d been like an older sister to her strengthened Lupe’s resolve. She pulled the shawl from her shoulders and cast it over Xiaoyu’s small head, tucking the knitted cloth around the girl’s round face to shield her from anyone who might look twice on the street. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go. I’ll be just fine. Someone needs to stay with the rest of the girls. You go, run, and hide. When it’s all over, go to Small Heath. Find Tommy Shelby. Tell him what happened.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” With those parting words, she stepped away from her sobbing little sister and ran towards the front entrance, closer and closer to the horrible sounds her sisters were making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped out into the sunlight.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Gangsta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I need a gangster, to love me better</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've updated the tags to reflect some new things in this chapter. Trigger warning: discussion of self harm, self harm scars, violence against women. Graphic description of said violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lupe could feel bruises purpling on her arms where the coppers grabbed her and tossed her to the ground. They barked orders in harsh English, coordinating the kettling of her fellow sisters into covered wagons with steel bracelets on the girls’ wrists.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Facedown in the muck, she couldn’t help but question the wisdom of her decision to run straight into the face of imminent danger. Who knew if Xiaoyu would make it to Small Heath without being kettled herself? Would Tommy help them? Would he even care?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get up, chink slut.” The police spat at her, spittle peppering her dark hair. Lupe’s shoulders ached something fierce from being yanked upwards by her handcuffs. Holding back tears, she struggled against the hold on her wrists to try and get to her feet.  “Resisting arrest? We’ll have you mailed back to where you came from for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hot fury bubbled within Lupe. “I’d like to see you try.” She responded acridly, biting back curses and promises of eternal revenge on her captors’ souls. Oh, how desperately she wanted to smack them across the face and push their porky snouts into the Birmingham muck. Lupe could feel the cuffs opening cuts in her wrists, blood and sweat slicking her hands and collecting under her fingernails. A dirty hand reached over her shoulder to grab at her throat, the vice-like grip choking the life out of her. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she fought desperately for every breath. All Lupe could hear was her pulse, pounding a marching beat in her head. For a single blessed moment, the vice grip on her throat loosened and she could think clearly enough to smirk at the inspector standing before her, the screams and struggles of her sisters echoing like valkyries descending on a battlefield. The inspector with his stupid mustache and a pompous, gleeful light in his eye promptly backhanded Lupe across the face, sending her keeled over to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s only polite to introduce myself. Inspector Campbell, at your service. I’d tell you to enjoy our hospitality, but you won’t be enjoying it much longer. I look forward to seeing you off back to Shanghai, little lady.” He mockingly bowed with a doff of his hat. She wanted to rip it off him and shove it down his throat so he would never address her again. Guadalupe struggled against the cuffs once, twice. Her slick fingers twitched in their steel grips, desperate to sink her nails into the inspector’s face and carve him a new smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lupe bared her red-stained teeth at him in the mockery of a smile, the taste of iron heavy on her tongue. “Inspector Campbell, I kindly request you go to hell.” The man gripped her face with his gloved hand, that fucking smirk never leaving his lined face. At her words he dug in harder, forcing his fingers between her teeth like she was an unruly dog. On her knees, at the mercy of a stranger. Humiliation trickled through her veins. How dare he. How dare this scum bring her so low. She wanted to kill him, watch the life splutter out of his beady little eyes. She wanted to scrub her skin off with bleach to erase the memory of his touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Campbell’s Irish brogue echoed condescendingly in her ears. “My girl, I’m already here. Now, you’ll tell me what you know about Thomas Shelby or I’ll ask these kind gentlemen here to beat it out of you.” He was after Tommy. Like hell would she give a single thing up to this fucking inspector. One day, she swore to herself. One day she would grind this man to dust beneath her heel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you pig-faced lout. No.” She spat back at him, bloody spit decorating his fine suit. Tommy was an utter bastard to be sure, but he’d earned her loyalty just the same. In that moment, the past disappeared. All of it, the other woman and the silence on his end. As the inspector sent her reeling into the mud with another blow, all she thought about was Tommy and the gentle way he kissed her. The way he talked to her. Like she mattered to him. How he made her feel as if she was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no other explanation for her behavior; she was in love. Lupe could see that now, as the coppers finally let off beating her black and blue and hauled her into the covered wagon. When Tommy touched her, he lit a fire in her soul, and Guadalupe would be damned before she saw any harm come to him on her account. He probably would never look at her like she looked at him, never love her as she loved him. But what he gave her was enough. The mere thought of Tommy brought a smile to her face and tore her busted lip open further, sending a dribble of blood down her chin. Her whole body ached; a few ribs were most certainly bruised. Not the first time she’d seen the wrong end of a white man’s fist, nor would it be the last. No matter what happened next, she wouldn’t be a snitch. Lupe wouldn’t be the girl who sacrificed other people on the altar of her own self-interest. She’d protect Tommy like she’d protect her sisters. By not saying a word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They booked every girl they rounded up at the station, the coppers screaming at them in a language most of them could not understand. She did her best to translate, to keep the peace. Not a single girl was reassured by the sight of her purpled cheek and bloody mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The holding cell was grimy and smelled of puke and piss. Her sisters huddled in groups, alternately whispering and crying amongst themselves. Shulan traced characters into the dirt coated wall of the cell; </span>
  <em>
    <span>home, family, happiness</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Huiyin huddled up against Lupe, face pressed against her neck, soaking the cotton of her dress with tears. The other girl was petite compared to her, all small, delicate limbs and large, dark eyes. Huiyin still found joy in the color of wildflowers and the shape of clouds. She had no family left for her in Shanghai; a foundling left on the steps of a Green Gang gambling hall. Huiyin and the rest of her sisters would suffer the most if they were all deported. That could not come to pass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lupe could not find a single care for her own fate. Who would weep if a Chinese whore was beaten to death by a British copper? Who would mourn if, upon her return to Shanghai, an enforcer stabbed her and left her to bleed out in a back alley? Nobody would. Her life was worth nothing. She had no innocence to save, no grand hopes for the future, no loved ones to treasure. Guadalupe chuckled to herself quietly. That’s what this arrest had done to her, made her morose and melancholy before her time. The fight wasn’t over yet. At the very least, her sisters had to survive. They must. If Xiaoyu made it out of the Quarters there was a chance for them. Lupe was never one for gambling; she’d seen too many men dead over debts to risk her life for a bit of fun. This was the riskiest gamble she would ever take. A gamble on Thomas Shelby’s theoretical attachment to her. He must feel something. Why else would a man known not to frequent whores frequent her? For that sake, he might be able to save them all. Pull some strings, bribe the right people. The pragmatist in her pointed out it would be in his financial interest to help them. The Gang would owe him a favor and a favor was a powerful thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could hope all she wanted he might feel as she felt about him, but hope was flimsy and prone to deserting people when they needed it most. Money and power made the world go ‘round.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lupe touched her bloody wrists gently. If those wounds were to heal properly, without additional scarring, she would need gauze and clean water soon. The glares from the men guarding their holding cell did not reassure her that she’d get those in time to prevent infection. She was covered in enough scars; Lupe didn’t wish for more. Scars on her back and thighs from nights gone wrong. Scars on her palms from punishments. Scars lining her wrists that she’d done to herself. No one had ever seen the extent of the damage except for her. That was on purpose; Guadalupe always made sure the lanterns burned low and what could be powdered was powdered, in order to hide them. Her wrists would bear the marks of yet another incident. In a way, she was sick of it. Sick of a life that etched permanent damage into her body that she would never outrun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what other life was out there for her? What else would let her be free, free to make her own money and decide her own path?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her attention returned to the present. There was no use mooning over such things when Lupe had more pressing issues to concern herself with. One by one, the police were dragging girls out of the holding cell. First, they took photographs, then they pressed their thin fingers into pads of ink and took their fingerprints. If they managed to avoid deportation today and ever got into any more trouble, they would certainly be deported then. Anonymity kept them safe, and they’d all just lost it. This new inspector seemed to want to “clean up the streets”; of course he’d start with the people who couldn’t fight back without getting themselves in trouble, she thought disdainfully. He prowled around the station like a peacock, as if proud of the terror he put them all through. What a wanker. The man thought he could break them. One day, Lupe would break him, she swore to herself. He was nothing more than a dog who needed to terrorize others to make himself feel good. Oh, she’d heard whispers about him. What he did to the Irish. What he wanted to do to the Communists. He might see her as nothing but a slag but she saw the truth of Inspector Campbell. A monster. A monster who left bodies in his wake and woke up every morning with a smile on his face because of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d fucking kill him if it was the last thing Lupe did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For Huiyin. For Xiaoyu. For the people he crushed beneath his polished shoe. Men like him looked the other way when girls who deserved better out of life were found murdered while claiming to be the hand of justice. She’d seen plenty of his type in London. He was the same bootlicking scum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get up, Ms. Zhang.” Speak of the Devil. Lupe leveled her sharpest glare at the inspector, who looked as smug as the cat that caught the canary. “I would have words with you, my dear.” The endearment rankled. Disgust and humiliation crawled through her bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lupe drew herself upright with the bearing of a queen. “Call me that again, Inspector, and I’ll have your balls cut off.” Her red lipstick must’ve smeared off by now, but she liked to think her smile still looked as dangerous as a throat slit open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Threatening an officer of the Crown? We’ll have that added onto your long, long list of charges, my dear.” Her eyes flashed dangerously, a promise of violence. Jesus counseled Christians to forgive, but she would never forgive him. Never.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps a change in tactics would upset him as he upset her. A saccharine expression settled across her features. “What can I help you with?” Lupe purred out. She pressed up against the bars of the cell to level her face with his. “Sir.” At her last word, a bright crimson flush spread up his neck. He rushed to clear his throat and step away from her. She snickered to herself at the frightened look in his beady eyes. Hadn’t the man ever met a woman who wanted something?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d do well to back away from me, my dear. Now I’ll ask you again, what do you know about Thomas Shelby?” He’d asked her this question earlier. How… interesting. Of course, everyone in this town knew Mr. Shelby frequented the establishment where she worked. What did Inspector Campbell want? Oh, she thought he was after the Communists. Perhaps that was simply a smokescreen, to conceal his true intentions towards the Peaky Blinders. Lupe sighed internally. What the fuck kind of trouble did Tommy get her into now?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man on the other side of the bars was playing a game. What game, she had no clue. For now, Lupe would play along. She’d never give up anything about Tommy. Never. But if Lupe could get her sisters out of these cells... “Oh, Inspector. Don’t you know? Everything is available. For a price.” She made him uncomfortable, made him adjust his pants. As long as she was able, she would use that to her advantage. Before he got the chance to respond, a detective pulled him away. She could hear them muttering to each other in low voices. The inspector protesting something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the detective released his death grip on Campbell’s arm and moved towards their cell, keys in hand. Lupe had never seen him before and got the distinct impression he was choosing his words with the utmost care. “My apologies for this… unfortunate situation. You’re free to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>They were… free?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hope rose again in her breast, in spite of the aching of her ribs, wrists, and head. The detective worked quickly to move them all out of the cell and out of the police station. As if the hounds of hell were after him. Campbell spluttered as the girls walked past him, stunned. “But… but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other man shook his head. “Orders from up high, Inspector. Nothing I can do about it, I’m afraid.” Lupe spoke to every one of her sisters in rapid Chinese, moving them along as well. She didn’t know who to attribute this miracle to, but she’d take advantage of it before the detective changed his mind. Did Xiaoyu make it? Did Tommy really care for her after all? A true smile came to her face. Of course, Lupe was afraid. Afraid it was some other stroke of luck, afraid her hopes were once again misplaced. But this time, the feelings that swelled in her were impossible to stifle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She all but ran out of the station.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There he stood, lit cigarette in his mouth. Waiting for her. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To be kettled/kettling describes the process of police corraling and arresting a group of people.<br/>I have no idea what the arrest process was like in the late 1910's, so I'm basing this off my own experiences with the police. And of course, literary/creative license. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Take Me To Church</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>take me to church, i'll worship like a god at the shrine of your life</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>two updates in one day? inconcievable! jk, just wanted to post this. The culmination of all the sexual tension of the past chapters. This is my first sex scene EVER so please be kind and leave me a comment. Thanks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something so achingly tender in the way he bandaged her wrists. It broke her heart. Tommy touched her like he was touching a crucifix; reverent and worshipful, with sorrow in his piercing blue eyes.</p><p>Mr. Zhang had been waiting right outside the police station. Tommy only gave her a few moments, his arm wrapped around her waist, to make sure the girls were safe with the boss before packing her without a word into his automobile. She settled against the buttery leather of the seat with a deep, bone-weary sigh. They’d been in that holding cell for hours. Lupe had lost track of time. It had been just before noon when they were taken away; now, the sun fell just below the skyline and lit the smokey Birmingham sky a brilliant crimson orange.</p><p>The man hadn’t said a word to her, simply enveloped her in a rough hug that brought tears to her eyes. She only truly relaxed for the first time that day enveloped in his arms, inhaling his scent, a perpetual mixture of musk and tobacco smoke. Tommy pulled away first, starting the automobile and driving with a death grip on the steering wheel that left his knuckles white and a frown etched into the marble facets of his face.</p><p>“Let that not happen again, love.” His voice was rough as if he’d spent the past half an hour shouting. Lupe gazed out the windshield, watching Birmingham go by. This felt like a dream; a nightmare turned into a daydream. She’d been rescued, like a princess in a fairytale. When did that happen to women like her? “Love”? When did he start calling her that?</p><p>His eyes were still fixed on the road as he reached out to wipe a smear of blood off her chin. “I’ll do my best, Tommy.” Lupe promised, her voice as hoarse as his, though from a different cause. The adrenaline that powered her out of the station and into his arms wore off swiftly, the pain of her ribs and wrists burning fiercely once more. She closed her eyes to the world around her and tipped her head back, her loose, grimy hair falling against the seat. His hand moved from her face to her hand, clutching it like a lifeline. Another word was not spoken between them for the rest of the ride. Just his hand on her and her mind too weary to contemplate the meaning behind the gesture.</p><p>If she had the strength Guadalupe would ask him what happened, question him frantically about what Xiaoyu said to him, and what price they would have to pay for his help. But all she wanted at that moment was to be a girl, holding hands with a boy. To pretend Lupe had not just had the shit beaten out of her by an inspector out for Tommy’s blood and almost been deported. He seemed to sense that desire and matched it.</p><p>They reached his townhouse a few minutes later. He parked his automobile in the carriage house, before helping her down from the car as a true gentleman would. “That inspector asked me about you.” She said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Lupe was almost afraid of his answer. His grip on her arm tightened, and she looked at him in alarm.</p><p>A stormcloud furrowed his brow and Tommy looked ready for murder. Torture, at the bare minimum. A pang of primal fear, at that anger being potentially directed at her, ran through her before he noticed and calmed her down. “Don’t concern yourself with him. Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”</p><p>Tommy was so gentle, so tender. She could hardly believe this man led the dread Peaky Blinders. The Shelby townhouse was fortuitously empty, a strange occurrence it seemed by the hastily left behind tea and toast on the dining table. He led her upstairs as if she were a child, hand in his. Tommy seemed to enjoy caring for her, seemed to find some quiet pleasure in drawing her a bath and dressing her wounds with alcohol and gauze. The soft look that settled across his face as he dabbed warm water on her face to clean off the blood and dirt kept her from asking any questions. She emerged from the bathroom clean and fresh, the only signs of the events that had occurred the bruises on her body and the empty look in her eyes.</p><p>When tears ran down Lupe’s face, her mind suddenly overwhelmed by the events of the past 24 hours, he asked no questions. He seemed to simply understand and drew her delicately into his arms once more as if she were a piece of fine china.</p><p>She clutched his shirtwaist and sobbed into the rough cotton. Lupe couldn’t chase the inspector’s humiliating words away, the pain of his hand slapping her across the face, the sheer terror of being unable to save the girls she saw as her sisters. So she cried out the feelings into the crook of his neck, pressing her face against his sharp collarbone. His grip around her tightened. Lupe drew away from him as her sobs stopped, her wet black hair draped around her like a veil.</p><p>They gazed at each other for a moment, a pause filled with words unsaid and feelings unknown.</p><p>He kissed her. Softly at first, then harder, more passionately. This man kissed like he was in love. The calloused pads of his fingers traced reverently over her cheekbones, then her jaw, finally coming to rest in a gentle grip around her chin. Lupe pulled him flush against the curves of her body, breast to breast, heart to heart. She returned the kiss with as much fervor as him, taking control back from Tommy as she traced the shape of his plush lips with her tongue.</p><p>He lifted her up by the waist with his other hand, the muscles of his bicep bulging as he settled her gently into his lap. A single knee parted her thighs as she came to rest atop the hardness in his pants.</p><p>They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. He knew her body almost as well as she did. She nipped at his bottom lip, wringing a sweet, deep moan from Tommy. Lupe broke the kiss for a moment to rest her forehead against his. The stare he fixed her with felt like it plumbed the depths of her soul. God in Heaven, did she love this man.</p><p>His hand shifted from her chin, trailing down her neck with a feathery touch that sent shivers down her spine. He settled above her heart as if feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse with his fingers. Oh, Tommy was playing a dangerous game. He’d only ever loved her when he paid her. Now, they would love each other.</p><p>His mouth parted in surprise as she moved suddenly against him, taking control and grinding down into his lap. The friction was sweet, moving butterflies in her stomach. Lupe kissed him again, this time fiercely, her tongue battling against his for dominance. A wild look entered his eye and inflamed his movements; this was a man not used to being challenged. In a swift movement, he rolled her over and pinned her down against his bed. The flutter of his lips against her jaw, her neck, the exposed flesh of her breasts, was maddening. He nipped at the tan skin there, leaving red and purple marks blooming like violets against her skin.</p><p>“Tommy…” She moaned, the pain and pleasure of his mouth on her an intoxicating sensation. He paused for a moment to trace his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips.</p><p>“My sweet girl.” He chuckled softly at the dazed look in her eyes. “May I?” He asked, the roughness of his Birmingham accent contrasting with the gentleness in his voice. She loved him so wildly it surprised even her, this man who asked permission, unlike the men who came before him.</p><p>She smiled up at him, her dark eyes round with anticipation. “Of course.” Tommy tugged at the straps of her dress, sliding them down in her round shoulders. He undressed her with the same attention to detail he gave his work and she lifted her hips off the mattress to help him along. His eyes darkened at the black and blue bruises that marred her ribs, her knees, and her arms. He pressed his mouth ever so gently along each bruise, each cut. The warmth of his touch erased the lingering pains that plagued her from this awful day. Tommy’s arms bracketed her hips on the bed.</p><p>Lupe could feel wetness gathering between her legs at his ministrations, increased so by the way he looked as he worshipped her. Tousled black hair, the most appetizing flush crawling up his chest through his half-open shirt, black pupils dilated with arousal. The remnants of her dress bunched around her hips as she moved her thigh, rubbing up against his hardness in order to draw another moan out of his sinful mouth. With the way he tempted her, he was Lucifer and she Eve.</p><p>Tommy pushed her slip down to join her plain dress, drawing a single stiff nipple into his mouth. Her mind went nearly blank with pleasure and she moaned almost involuntarily. Such was his hold over her. “‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine...’” She recited to him, watching the erotic sight of him rolling one peak between his fingers and sucking at the other.</p><p>He paused for a moment to laugh, dark and promising of sin. “The Song of Solomon?”</p><p>“Ah, so you do know your Bible.” She turned the pause to her advantage, reaching down to unbutton his pants and grasp his firm cock in hand. As if compelled he ground his hips down against her hand, his mouth hanging open in pleasure. The gasp she drew from Tommy was as sweet and deep as honey.</p><p>Not content to let Lupe have the upper hand, he took control back swiftly by pulling her dress and slip off, leaving her in her stockings and drawers. With a single hand pressed above her head, he slipped the other between her thighs, stroking his clever fingers against the dampness of her drawers. She moaned, the heady pleasure building slowly in her belly. Tommy smiled against her skin at the sweet sound.</p><p>“You’re so good for me, love.” He murmured into her hair, pooled around her head like a halo. Lupe could hardly stand his teasing ministrations bringing her such rapture, such warmth. He found her sensitive clit with unerring accuracy through the soft fabric, stroking in the way Tommy knew she enjoyed. He brought his nimble fingers up to his plush mouth, sucking musk off of them with desire-dark eyes. That look alone sent waves of thrill through her. Those damp fingers were next put to work divesting her of her drawers. As she lay back, completely bare to him, Lupe couldn’t help but feel nervous. He’d seen her naked before, but never under so much light, never when she was so vulnerable and fragile. With a single word, he could break her. Somehow that alone was more terrifying than being naked beneath him.</p><p>He could sense her nervousness, she just knew it. Tommy always seemed to know more about her than she wanted him to. A single hand came to rest on her cheek, just for a moment, to reassure her. They shared a tender glance between them, one that felt secret and lasted an eternity. A glance filled with all the things they couldn’t say. Lupe knew the moment he saw the white scars that lined her body and felt a moment of terror that he would be disgusted at them, that he would push her away, reject her. Instead, a soft look came to his face as he kissed them, one by one, covering her thighs, her arms, her belly with gentle, loving touches.</p><p>It was over all too soon, and he positioned himself once more between her legs, lowering his face to her secret place that he desired. A single finger stroked her damp folds, joined soon by another. The sensation was feather-light and teasing, exploring. She slid back down onto the bed as he pressed two fingers into her, slowly fucking in and out of her cunt. The pleasure of stretching around him was almost too much, too good, and she keened almost involuntarily. Tommy splayed his other hand along her pelvis, holding her down as her body tried to move away from the insistent sensations. His thumb came to rest against her clit the way he knew she enjoyed, rubbing in slow circles that had her clenching against the fingers inside of Lupe.</p><p>“Please…” She moaned from her chest. Tommy obliged her, pulling his fingers from her. They dripped wet with slick.</p><p>He soon replaced his hand with his mouth, sucking and licking at her folds, drawing her clit into his mouth. </p><p>The heat was almost unbearable, crawling up her spine. She wanted him to keep going, to handle her rougher, harder. Like Tommy could read her mind, he slid his fingers back inside of her, timing his hand with his thrusts with his mouth on her. Lupe could feel herself dripping against his mouth as they moved their bodies together in a dance older than time. Bit by bit, a wave swelled inside of her, gaining power with each second he spent pleasuring her, each moment he rocked against her cunt. Her legs, splayed out, began to quiver with the intensity of the thrill he awoke inside of her. She pressed herself up into his touches, desperately trying to chase the pleasure that racked up and down her spine. His fingers moved faster, fucking her in time to her heartbeat.</p><p>Just as she was about to come, he pulled away to watch her chest heaving with breaths and her cunt, red and swollen and dripping wet. Lupe whined in complaint.</p><p>His mouth, shiny with her wetness, smirked. “Have patience, my girl.” Tommy dove back into her at once; his hand pushing into her cunt with three fingers. The sweet stretch forced a shriek out of her throat, her head thrown back as she moved her hips in synch with him.</p><p>His fingers were so much larger than hers, his tall frame covering her body as he pressed up against her, fucking her harder and harder.</p><p>He was driving her crazy, she thought hazily through the pleasure. The sensations built in a crescendo, moving through her belly fierce and unstoppable. Tommy knew, knew what was coming, could feel her clenching further and further around his nimble fingers. </p><p>Tommy would be her undoing.</p><p>He looked half an angel, half a devil as he bore down on her. </p><p>That mouth, sculpted for pleasure, returned to her cunt, sucking and licking her towards her peak. Lupe felt herself move, felt herself come closer against his mouth, her mind going blank with sensation. Her legs quivered as he kept sucking, kept moving, and brought her over the edge.</p><p>It felt like falling. Like flying.</p><p>Tommy had to press her down to keep her from jolting away from his touch.</p><p>When she settled back to Earth, he was still stroking her folds with his tongue, gently tracing shapes and lapping her through her orgasm. Exhaustion flooded through Lupe as she went boneless against the mattress.</p><p>“Sleep, love.” He murmured in her ear. She closed her eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Vices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>making a fool of myself, with all these vices</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright kids, hope you enjoyed those last two chapters cuz we're about to board the angst train. Sorry for the late update, a lot of shit happened in my life. I'm back on track now. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To wake up alone in a foreign bed was as disorienting as it sounded like. Footsteps echoed from the stairwell next to the room and she pulled the sheets tighter around her in a moment of reflexive anxiety and vulnerability as her hair shifted on the pillows like pooled black ink. Her wrists and cheek still ached, the deep purple bruises turned a sickly green. The room around Lupe was Spartan, more suited to a factory worker than the head of Birmingham’s most notorious. Bare shelves, bare walls, bare floor. There was hardly anything personal about her surroundings. Tommy was the one who painted these sparse lodgings with the radiating heat of his presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the most intimate thing there was here was the dip in the bed next to her, still warm. Dingy white sheets, worn soft with use, contrasted against the greyed wood-paneled walls. It felt like his whole room was tinted in blue. The sickly sweet scent of slightly off chocolate and smoke met her nostrils. It was a smell as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Lupe had smelled it a million times at work. Her fingers, still with caked brown blood under her nails, scrabbled at the drawer in his bedside table where the scent emanated from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evidence stared back at her, tempting her with its seductive song like it always did in the brothel. Opium. Good opium, at that. A slender, old fashioned ivory pipe. Out of fashion, now that laudanum was available. Tommy always did seem like the traditional type.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against her will, Lupe felt herself grow furious. At him for being so stupid, at herself for never noticing. She thought he was getting better. Of course, he wasn’t fine, but he was better. He saved her. How could he do something so awful? How could she be mad at him for doing something she herself sold to other men every night? He was supposed to be her savior. A better person than her. Lupe had built him up in her mind as a towering pillar, unbreakable, cracked but whole. A knight in shining armor. She’d always seen him as the strongest person in the world, the man who had been through Hell and come out the other side better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How had she never noticed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization cut like a knife; the signs had always been there. She’d just ignored them. The uncoordinated jumble of his limbs when he walked through the door. His body, carved like an emaciated Christ from marble. How she’d mistook the way his pupils twitched for attraction, not a high. He bore his wounded soul to her and she had been blind this whole time. At the end of all things, Tommy was just a man. Not a god. Somehow, if Lupe had just known, maybe she could have saved him… All she had ever known was a life surrounded by addicts of various vices. Yet, she’d never seen the signs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guadalupe slammed the drawer shut in a fit of blind fury. She wanted to hit something, make herself bleed, just to feel the sweet relief of crimson dripping down her knuckles. Giving in to the impulse was as easy as breathing. Punishing herself felt like the only way she could atone for her sins, for his sins too. Smears of blood, quickly oxidizing, painted the wall. Good, she thought. Let Thomas wonder what happened here. She was foolish. A foolish little girl who thought everything would be alright and no one would get hurt when she played with fire. Here she was, crying when she got burned. Tears leaked from her eyes, the salted water burning the scrapes on her cheeks as it dripped off her face. Breathe in, breathe out, Guadalupe told herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could feel herself panicking. Those dark tendrils of fear and anxiety crept through her brain and into her throat, suffocating her. Her nails left red marks on her neck as Lupe clawed, desperately trying to breathe. She needed to get away. She needed to think. To breathe. To make sure every one of her sisters made it out of the inspector’s clutches. She hardly had the mental capacity to deal with Thomas right now, much less the opium. The sooner she was out of this house, the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her crumpled, grimy clothes lay on the bare floor where she’d stripped out of them last night. Her heart lay with them. Lupe pulled them on quickly, grimacing at the sensation of the dirty fabric. They would do for however long it took her to make her escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, it was just her shit luck that as soon as she pulled on her stockings, the weathered door swung open to reveal the man of the hour. Tommy looked so perfect, so untouched. Groomed and waxed hair and his suit a few years outdated but still crisp, still clean. Lupe saw the signs now. Clear as day. His chest rose and fell slowly, shallowly. When her eyes met his, she could see the pin-point pricks of his pupils against the pale blue of his irises. Thomas took a step towards her as he registered the shock, the fear written across her face. Lupe wanted to believe it was concern. Or love. She wanted to believe so badly. The truth was apparent in the remoteness underlying that beautiful, sculpted, angelic face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around her, the room spun for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out a hand as if to anchor her, but she flinched away from his touch. “Guadalupe? What’s wrong?” Tommy’s voice was raspy and rough from the cigarette smoke that wafted off him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t know, so Lupe figured she might as well go for it. “Do you know what opium smells like, Thomas?” She queried, innocent as a lamb. Like a snake, rearing to strike, he pulled away from her. His pale, long-fingered hand drew into a fist at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped at her viciously, the verbal blow surprising her with its’ venom. “Are you judging me?” Maybe she was. Maybe some of her fury was unfairly directed at him when Lupe was truly angry with herself. Tommy must’ve seen that anger in her deep brown eyes. He advanced on her suddenly, his footsteps echoing like church bells. How his face could go from a depiction of angelic perfect to bottomless demonic fury so quickly was beyond her. “How fucking dare you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made her weak. He made tears come to her eyes and made her heart feel as if it was ripping out of her chest. “I’m worried about you, Tommy.” Lupe pleaded. Hear me, she thought. Please. Please don’t do this. Come back to me. Odd how a single sentence could be used to convey so much. Unbidden, her mind flashed to watching her father, in his starched sailor’s uniform, walk away from her, never to return. Her mother had held her back as Lupe screamed, pleaded, even begged, while he kept walking. No, she told herself. Don’t think about that. Don’t. Now is not the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to worry about me. I don’t need anything from you.” The snarl in his voice cut almost worse than the words themselves. That fisted hand came up to slam against the wall behind her as his body moved suddenly, pushing her up against the said wall. The way he looked at her… Like he despised her. Guadalupe never wanted to see that look on his face again if she could help it. It terrified her in the way a hunting dog terrified a fox, primal and instinctual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way she could hide, no place she could run. “I just want to help. What’s so awful about that?” Antagonizing him may not have been the smartest decision, but she couldn’t resist getting in a little dig. Fucking Thomas Shelby. Couldn’t be vulnerable to save his life. Not with her, not with anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need your help.” He grew closer to her face, almost pressing his forehead against hers in a mockery of intimacy. Somewhere in those icy eyes was the kind man she loved, Lupe knew it. “I don’t need you. Did you forget your place, girl?” That one stung, she wouldn’t lie. What did he mean, he didn’t need her? He needed her last night. Thomas needed her the first night they met. Of course he needed her, she tried to convince herself, even through the pain his words caused. For him, she would take the pain. To a point. Which Tommy was fast approaching. He still looked half a god in the weak, early morning sunlight. Was this what real love was? Weakness?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she could just get through to him… “It’s not healthy-” Quick as lightning, his hand grabbed her jaw, blunt nails digging into her skin and forcing her face up towards his, forcing her gaze to stay with his. Perhaps if she wasn’t so terrified of losing him, she might find this erotic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rich, coming from a slag.” Thomas spat at her in disgust. Disgust. He found her disgusting. He was right; she was nothing but a slag. Not even worth his effort, his time, his compassion. No. No more weakness. No more crying over a man who didn’t deserve it. Guadalupe would have time to mourn later, she decided in a split second. It seemed this man had forgotten exactly what the fuck she was capable of. Rage clouded her vision. How fucking dare he. How dare he call her that when he was the one who paid her, who came to her when she called. How could he say those things when he was the one who needed her, truly? If Lupe didn’t get out of this situation quickly, she would rip his throat out with her bare teeth. And she would end up back in jail. Inspector Campbell might even thank her, she chuckled to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vicious smile stretched her face, more akin to the grin of a wolf. He was just a man, at the end of all things. He and his brothers were all scum. He wasn’t worth her love, her time, her effort. She batted away the hand encircling her jaw with lazy ease before wrapping her own hand around his throat with a strength that surprised even her. Oh, he didn’t like that. He didn’t like having the tables turned on him, Lupe could tell. Maybe he should’ve thought of that before he had the audacity to insult her. “...What did you just call me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the choking sounds that issued from his open mouth, he wouldn’t be responding anytime soon. Good. Thomas looked much better when he wasn’t saying anything and fucking things up. “...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me that again. Say it to my fucking face again, junkie.” Two could play at this game. That was his sore spot, Lupe could tell. Little Tommy reacted to that one. His brow furrowed and his pale blue eyes darkened with storm clouds. Maybe she shouldn’t be playing with fire, egging this objectively dangerous man into a fight. But he started it. At the moment her hand released his throat, she placed her body weight against his and shoved him out of her path. Just as she made it to the door, her heart pounding with adrenaline, Lupe couldn’t resist one last dig. “Speak to me again, Mr. Shelby. I dare you. You’ll regret it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did you know the first recorded use of the word junkie was in 1923?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Judas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>love is like a brick, you can build a house or sink a dead body</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry i've been gone for quite awhile. but i am committed to finishing this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a long, lonely trek home. She had more or less booked it out of the Shelby townhouse before anyone, especially Thomas, could stop her, as sweltering summer heat cloaked the city and left a shimmering veil of sweat on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for the first time, she missed the simplicity of the life she’d led in Shanghai as a young girl; a mother that loved her when she wasn’t working or high, aunties with prettily made-up faces and British soldier beaus who doted on her, the child they weren’t able to have with their lifestyles. The smell of the clean ocean. The taste of fresh noodles. The red lanterns, firecrackers, and lion dancers at the New Year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father was a distant smear of color in her memory. A scent, perhaps. Nothing more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing hurt, and everything was glad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Every step forward revealed the gravel underfoot, poking through the worn soles of her shoes. Just like that, the tears disappeared. A calm rose over her mind as fog crept up a hillside. Everything was going to be fine. She would stop being foolish and forget everything. Forget the bad and the good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like an eternity since she’d last seen those red doors, felt the worn metal of the doorknob under her palm. The adrenaline rush that had delivered her safely home left as quickly as it had come, and in its’ place exhaustion wrapped itself around her bones. By some miracle she made it to her room without seeing a single soul; midday was not exactly their busiest time. Finally, the tears came, hot gushes that ran unbidden down her bare, worn face. Home was an elusive concept for Lupe at best, ever since she’d come to this awful country. At that moment, this sparse room she shared with Xiaoyu felt like the closest thing to home in all these years.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She awoke to the dawn and Xiaoyu’s small, birdlike hands stroking over her forehead, skimming over the bruises on Lupe’s face like a sparrow. So often she played mother to the younger girl. How odd it was to have the roles reversed. Her sister shifted closer to murmur words in her ear, after seeing she had awoken; “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You saved us, sister.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The happiness and relief written across her sister’s face made the events of the past 48 hours worth it. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I did what I had to. God knows Cuifen will kill me the moment she realizes I’m back. You got out safe?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her hand reached out and clutched Xiaoyu’s fingers in her own. Regardless of whether or not it was for the benefit of the rest of the girls, Cuifen would be sure to punish her for involving the Gang in a bargain, which Tommy’s rescue most certainly was, that they had not consented to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I did. Thanks to you. So did everyone else.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A moment of weakness would be allowed, she thought. No one else would see or know. She pressed her face into the other girl’s stomach as a small child would. The other girl’s hand let go of hers and went to her dark hair, stroking and twisting it around her fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smiling face above and stroking hands went still at Lupe’s next words. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>At what cost?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s not talk about that. You’re home, you’re safe. We’re all safe. Thank you, Xiujia.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She turned her face back up, to absorb the gratefulness beaming down from above her. A kiss, gentle as a whisper, landed on her forehead. Lupe pulled herself, grimacing at the sore muscles that groaned and protested at such an action. She needed to get herself cleaned up before Cuifen walked in here and tore her a new one, or, in the worst case, threw her out onto the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The basin by the mirror was already filled with cool water, a new bar of Ivory soap still in the wax paper sitting next to it. She typically preferred a full bath, but time was of the essence.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What happened after they took me away?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Xiaoyu leaned back against the wall. Her petite feet barely dangled over the edge of the bed with the carelessness of a teenager. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I ran and hid, buried myself in the freshly laundered suits and didn’t move for hours. The coppers couldn’t tell they were missing one girl. Then I snuck out the back door and covered my face with a scarf. The police were so busy with the raid that there weren’t many out on the streets, so I made it to the Shelby house without any trouble.” … “I stood outside that door for 10 minutes, banging until someone came. Your boy opened the door, and I told him what had happened. Xiujia… the way he looked at my words. Like a demon. He said something in English I couldn’t understand, than left suddenly with a few other men. The young girl, about our age, ushered me in and gave me some tea. I waited, until she told me I could go home.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lupe paused in her scrubbing at the dirt marks on her face and arms to take in her sister’s words. Next, her attention returned to the dirt under her fingernails. She moved with methodical precision, hardly concentrating on the task at hand. Tommy came for her. If Xiaoyu was to be believed, he was even upset. And Ada had been kind to her and hidden her. He said he didn’t need her, but he still came for her in the end...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was best to stop ruminating on this; she had to accept she would never truly understand him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m glad you made it out okay…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His words still stung, stronger than the soap did in the cuts on her hands. Was that all she was to him? A warm body, a thing to be defended then discarded?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiaoyu was immature and childish at most times, yet still knew her better than anyone else, was attuned to the constant fluctuations of her moods like a finely tuned instrument. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What’s wrong, she thought, is that my only purpose is to give and give and give, until there is nothing left. I’d burn the world down for a man who sees me as nothing but a prostitute, a plaything. I am nothing, without the men who use my body for their pleasure. That is what’s wrong. I am what’s wrong. Everyone leaves in the end, and it’s all my fault. My only hope is salvation after death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, she could not very well say that. She did not want to say that to anyone. Lupe would rather let those thoughts fester, deep inside the recesses of her mind, where they wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone or herself. Only God would know the truth. So all she said was, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m fine”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with a smile that warned Xiaoyu not to press any further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, her sister left her alone in their room and slipped out quietly. Lupe stripped out of her clothes, changing into fresh garments with a speed that belied her anxiety at being caught by the definitely furious madame. By the grace of God, she managed to get herself completely cleaned up and out the door without a single other person seeing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The summer air outside was thick with humidity and pollution. The best thing to do would be to escape to some tiny corner of this city where Lupe would not be found and wait out the rage of the gang. With her face scrubbed clean, and bruises covered under modest clothes, she looked as any other lady on the street might. The Birmingham museum loomed tall and imposing over Lupe. They wouldn’t look for her there. She ducked in quickly, evading the ticket booth with skilled practice. No one even noticed she’d entered. The pink marble walls were perfectly clean and the artwork was intimidating in the story of wealth it spoke to. She paused in front of a painting of ballerinas; Lupe had always loved to dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of her eye, a head of sunbeam bright blonde hair entered her field of vision. No, she thought to herself, please no. The woman from the pub. Tommy’s girl. No. Don’t come closer… Of course, God ignored her silent prayers, as usual, and the woman drifted closer to her. Lupe moved quickly to tuck herself into an alcove, with no desire to make nice with the woman who contributed, at least a tiny bit, to her sufferings. She might have slipped away quietly and abandon the museum, if not for the man that woman met; Inspector Campbell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of the inspector was enough to freeze her in place, make her bruises ache with phantom pain, send cold shivers down her spine. Her heart beat faster and faster like it was trying to break out of her chest. A smattering of their conversation drifted towards her and snapped her out of her panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...He took me to the races… Chester, he’s planning something…” They embraced, his hands with blood still beneath his fingernails pressing her golden head into his chest, before they pulled away. The monster pressed a tender kiss to the cheek of the woman. She could hardly stand the sight a second longer, her panic growing and growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe ran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was in danger. They all were. He needed to know his golden songbird was rotten to the core. Right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran like her life depended on it, evading every copper she came across. In a way, it did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were betrayed. Tommy’s lust for that Judas would bring about all of their ruins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe banged furiously against the door of the Shelby townhouse, praying the whole time that someone would be home. That she would be believed. She swallowed down her visible relief as the door opened. Polly Gray peaked out, scowling as soon as she saw who it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly’s voice was harsh and full of rage. “What’s wrong with you, girl? You nearly took my door-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t any time. Lupe cut her off, “That woman. The blonde one who sings at the Garrison. She’s in bed with Inspector Campbell.” The frown on Polly’s face etched in further.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She barked, “Get inside. Now.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. No Church In The Wild</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tears on the mausoleum floors, blood stains the coliseum floors</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The ritual shown here is in no way an accurate Roma ritual. It is of my own invention.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As soon as Lupe had been pulled into the dark of the townhouse, Polly kept her vicelike grip around her boney wrist. “Now you listen here. You are going to make like the portrait of the Virgin on that wall by staying here and staying quiet. If I see you try to make a run for it, I’ll take your head off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am.” That would be an easy order to follow. She had no intention of going anywhere until she was sure that Tommy would be safe, that absolute bastard. He had risked all of their lives for a pretty face and an innocent smile. Hell, she’d put money on the likelihood of that woman not being innocent at all. Lupe wanted to feel victorious. Instead, she felt nothing. Thomas would come back to her, as he always did, but she would never again entertain the illusion that he felt anything more for her than mere lust. He was just like all the other men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older woman nodded briskly before gesturing to the cramped kitchen, the frown permanently fixed on her face. “Good. There’s a pot of tea on the stove. I was under the impression you were more trouble than you’re worth, girl, but it seems you’ve proven me wrong.” Polly stepped away and disappeared into another room. Lupe could hear her muttering curses to herself as she grabbed her hat and coat. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” The door slammed behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘More trouble than you’re worth?’ What an odd thing to say. She settled back into a chair, twisting her hands together absentmindedly. What the hell was she doing? Why was she trying to save him? Visions of him and the golden woman entwined swam in her head, reminding her over and over that she was second best and always would be. The anxious fog cleared from her mind suddenly. Lupe loved him. Probably always would. Even if he didn’t love her back, even if he never did, she would keep him safe. No matter what he said to her or how he pushed her away. All she could do was give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The sound of Polly crashing through the front door disturbed her ruminations. “Damn that man to the ninth circle of Hell. He’s nowhere to be found. What the bloody fuck are we going to do?” A glass thumped on the table next to Lupe before being filled up nearly to the brim with some sort of amber-colored alcohol. The smell was strong enough to make her wince from a few feet away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What to do, what to do… It really wasn’t her business. She was a Green Gang girl. In truth, Cuifen and Mr. Chang would never let her work again. If Lupe wanted a future, a future where she could help Tommy, even if he didn’t want her, she would need to align with Polly. “Look… she’s obviously spying on us for the Inspector. The Inspector is focused on the Peaky Blinders, clearly not any other gang. What is he looking for, specifically? Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Why are you doing this?” The older woman asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow raised.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The truth. The truth of how she felt was all Lupe had left. Perhaps that would be enough. She paused for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say. “I love him. He’ll never love me back, I know. It’s the truth. I love him, and I want him and the people he cares about to be safe.” Sincerity showed through her voice and after she finished speaking, she could feel her cheeks blushing hot and red in embarrassment. It seemed to be a talent of the whole family to strip back her defenses and lay her bare in front of them, metaphorically and literally.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“And his woman? Her name is Grace.” Of course, Polly Gray wouldn’t hesitate to rub salt in her wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe met her piercing gaze with equal strength as she let Polly gauge her reaction. “There will always be another woman. I’ve accepted that. I love him, just the same.” A man, a titan like Thomas Shelby was made for a woman who deserved him. That woman was not her. There was something oddly… mournful written across Polly’s face like a funeral veil, at her words. Perhaps even a little pity. She smiled back as if to say Lupe was fine; pity was for children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick nod of acknowledgment from the woman sitting across from her, then it was back to business. “... alright. Tommy… did something very, very stupid. In my opinion. He made off with a shipment of arms of vital importance to the Crown. I guarantee you, that’s what Campbell is here for. You know what lengths he’ll go to to bring us down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe could feel the Inspector’s hand slapping her cheek all over again. “I do.” Silence filled the air between them. “I’ve got an idea. Whatever it is the Peaky Blinders are gearing up to do next, hold them off. Delay. No doubt the coppers already have wind of what you’ve got cooked up. Give them the slip. It’ll give you time to track him down and rework your plans. Think of it as a strategic retreat. Knowing Tommy, knowing most men, they won’t like that. But sometimes you’ve got to put down your pride to keep everyone alive.” It was a rough plan but she thought it wasn’t too bad. What other options were there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly appeared to agree with her as she took a moment to think about it before making a noise of assent. “That’s not a bad idea. Well, girl, we’ll do it. You do know what this means, don’t you?” Lupe’s silence was her answer. “You’ve a smart mind. Use it. You’re one of the Peaky Blinders now. No going back.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I know. The Gang was never going to take me back even if I wanted to go.” This was for the best. Lupe thought she should really stop making spur-of-the-moment decisions. They’d only get her deeper into messes. Like this one. In the end, she would need the protection to remain in the country, to be able to continue protecting the people she loved. While unexpected, the invitation was welcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like Polly Gray could read her mind. “Especially not after that stunt you pulled earlier. You know how many favors Tommy had to call in to get you all out of there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Favors? Lupe had not even thought about that. What did that mean? What had he done to protect her? Not just her but also the women she cared about. She felt like a complete idiot; she’d never stopped to ask him what he had done and why he had come for her. “...He did?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“He did.” The woman sitting across from her paused for a moment to look Lupe up and down with a discerning eye. “I think… I think I see what he sees in you. When he’s not blinded by lusts, he isn’t half bad at spotting good folk. You’d fight both God and the Devil to protect those you’ve given your loyalty to. I respect that.” She had the feeling respect from this woman was hard to come by. Almost unconsciously, her back straightened in her chair and she lifted her chin in pride at the compliment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that your Roma intuition at work?” Lupe jested, letting a genuine smile show through her tough facade.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Perhaps the reason why Polly responded in kind was a mark of how much she’d come to like her. “I wouldn’t tell you even if it was.” She rose from her seat to pour Lupe and her both a cup of tea then stirred a generous helping of sugar into the cup. No cream. “What about that girl of yours? The one you sent running here?” Ah, of course, Polly couldn’t compliment her without poking at the places she knew would be sore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiaoyu was her little sister in all but name. No doubt she’d already been punished for following her directions. But the Gang would ultimately find blame with Lupe for giving them. It would kill a part of her to leave her behind. “She’ll be safer without me. I’ll only bring her more trouble if I stay.” For her, she would do anything to keep her safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly backed off “Alright. We’ll make it official, then.” She got up smoothly to rifle through a box set on a crowded desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a wicked silver knife. The knife was placed gently on the table Lupe sat at before the woman lit a fire in the fireplace. “Come here, girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do know that’s not my name?” Banter was something Lupe was good at. She let Polly stand in suspense for a few moments, finally acquiescing to join her by the fire. The knife was removed from the table and the blade was quickly moved in then out of the flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older woman gestured for her to reach out her hand. “I’ll call you what I like; be grateful it’s not ‘bitch’.” Her open hand extended into Polly’s grasp, who held it quite firmly. The knife, with its flashing silver blade, lowered tip first towards her palm. “Blood to blood.” Pain was familiar to Lupe; the pain of the blade drawing a deep line in her palm was no different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had the odd sense she ought to repeat those words. “Blood to blood.” The knife then went on to slash Polly’s palm the same way. She pressed their palms together, letting their mingled blood drip into the fire; the crimson red splashed and sizzled as it went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the family, Guadalupe.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. All For Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>do it for my homegrowns (sisters, brothers), do it for the fam</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Right, that’s it, we’d better get started. Bandages are over there, you can tend to yourself, you’re grown.” Despite their rough start, Lupe found herself enjoying Polly’s company. There was something disarming about her straightforward manner. “There’s no business like women’s business.” The sound of her footsteps as she made her way towards the coat rack echoed through the suspiciously empty house.</p><p>Women’s business. Sounded like something a man would come up with. “Any marching orders for me, Ms. Gray?” The aforementioned bandages came into Lupe’s possession. She twined them around the hand with the sluggishly bleeding cut, applying pressure to slow the drip with practiced ease.<br/><br/>Polly turned back to look at her with smiling crow’s feet lines. “No need to stand on formality girl. You can call me Aunt Polly, or Polly, like the rest of this lot does.” She wasn’t sure quite what she had been expecting when she came running here, hoping to save a hopeless man, but it certainly wasn’t this. <br/><br/>“Polly it is. Marching orders?” Lupe reminded, an answering joviality in her voice. <br/><br/>The door opened and framed the older woman’s figure with bright sunlight. “Stay put for now. I’m calling a family meeting. The quickest way to get everyone back from what they were doing.” Oh God and all the saints, that meant John. And the other Shelby siblings, the eldest brother, and the young ones. The girl who’d come a few days ago for an abortifacient. She could guarantee this meeting wouldn’t end well. Someone would be halfway dead by the end of it.</p><p>“Yes ma’am.” Ah well. Little choice she had.<br/><br/>Polly chuckled, a low, glad thing that came out rusty like she didn’t laugh often. “I don’t hear enough of that.” The door was nearly closed as Lupe was about to settle in to finish her cup of tea before she heard one last remark from her. “And Guadalupe?” <br/><br/>“Yes?”</p><p>“I would have a little more faith in Tommy if I were you. The only time I’ve seen him truly smile since he’s come back from the war is when he comes back from seeing you.” Some of that same, foreign pity entered her deep brown eyes. Before she could respond, Polly slipped away and out into the hot summer afternoon. If Tommy truly felt that way, she thought, he’d have to tell her himself. None of this guessing game shit. He certainly had no issue being straightforward with her about his past, about his demons. Men. Always afraid of feelings.</p><p>Her panic reared its ugly head once more. She could feel dark red blood soaking through the bandages from the force with which her nails were digging into her palms, irritating the still open wound there. What was she going to do? A room full of people she’d never met, all led by the man she’d practically assaulted and warned never to speak to her again, accompanied by his younger brother who she last saw after she threatened him. Lupe would be lucky if she made it out of the meeting unscathed.</p><hr/><p>One by one that evening, men filed into the townhouse. They spotted her, looked her up and down, then backed away. No doubt, damn near the entirety of the Peaky Blinders knew who she was by now. And knew to avoid her. Lupe had always wondered why Tommy seemed to be the only Blinder to ever visit her. The ubiquitous peaked caps and the accompanying worn suit coats came off, haphazardly strewn around the living room and kitchen. By now a cigarette had made its way into her other hand and she pulled from it with studied nonchalance. The motion of bringing it to her lips concealed the way her fingers still trembled with anxiety. The lack of anyone speaking to her, much less greeting her, certainly did not help. These bloody fuckers couldn’t even be polite to a woman. Rather, they all preferred to eye her like a circus had set up shop in Birmingham and the acts were coming down the street.</p><p>The oldest Shelby brother came in first. Arthur, if she remembered correctly. He looked familiar. Maybe she’d seen him before. Maybe she’d seen a dozen other men with the same look in their eyes as he had. It was the twitchiness in the way that he looked around the room, hand automatically going to his gun as soon as he saw her. He was wiry and shorter than Tommy, eyes a darker blue, yet intimidating all the same. A mustache that would have looked good-natured on someone else looked fierce on him. Every single man Lupe had ever met that went to the war came back different. Where his brother was stoic and controlling, Arthur looked like he was tied to a hair-trigger at all times, ready at a moment’s notice to go off. When he sat down in a chair at the same table as her, still not saying a word, he kept his back to the wall. How odd it was, that the eldest took orders from a younger brother. They say curiosity killed the cat. Lupe certainly was in no mood to find herself on the receiving end of Arthur’s ostensibly quick temper, solely for the sake of querying, ‘Why do you let your younger brother order you around?’</p><p>Minutes later, John strode in with a wide stance that projected an overblown sense of confidence. He smiled upon seeing her with stormy gray eyes and a clenched jaw that belied his true feelings. “Guadalupe, lass, it’s good to see ya.”</p><p>Lass? How the fuck did he get that from their first meeting? She was about to cut in and give him a polite dressing down when Arthur stepped in, disliking the implied closeness between them. To be fair, neither did she. “Johnny boy, you know ‘er?”</p><p>“Not in the biblical sense, no. But we’re old pals, aren’t we?” Lupe nearly choked on her lukewarm tea at his words. The biblical sense? Was he trying to waste any goodwill Polly might have garnered by implying she was that much of a whore?</p><p>Her voice could not have been icier if she tried. “Hardly.” There was a beat of silence as they looked at each other, really more like stared each other down. She raised a single, fine eyebrow as if to remind him exactly what would happen if he kept going. And that no one was likely to stop her, especially if Tommy wouldn’t.<br/><br/>An easygoing grin slid onto his milk-pale face. “Aw, don’t be like that.”</p><p>“John you keep away from ‘er. God only knows why Polly’s got ‘er in here.” It appeared Arthur did not enjoy being dismissed so easily by his little brother. </p><p>The woman herself appeared in the doorway to rescue Lupe. “Enough you heathens, don’t harass the poor girl.” She moved on quickly, efficiently, corralling each man into her living room and counting them all. “Jeremiah… Charlie… Scudboat… Anyone know where Finn’s at?” Polly Gray could run all of England with the efficiency of Churchill himself.</p><p>John thankfully took the cue to move on from needlessly bothering Lupe with his blathering. “He’s upstairs, Aunt Pol. I saw him passed out after runnin’ ‘round with his little pals.”</p><p>Polly nodded briskly. “Alright, as soon as Tommy gets here we can get started.” Something about their family dynamic was fascinating to watch. The only family she’d ever truly had like them were the girls she’d come to England with. Even then, they were all so frightened of the madames and their customers. There was hardly any room for the goodnatured banter on display. Lupe wondered what it must be like, to never grow up alone. To tumble over siblings and play in the mud and get into trouble.<br/><br/>“What’s this about Polly? I’m here-” The man of the hour. It felt like it had been ages since she’d last seen Tommy; really, it had been less than 24 hours. He looked the same, same unearthly beauty, yet everything was so changed. The reality of what Lupe had done hit her at that moment. She’d abandoned everything she had ever known. Everyone she loved. For a man as changeable as the wind, a veritable storm who crashed into her life and upended everything she knew. Lupe still loved him. She had a feeling she always would. Here was someone who could best her, who matched her in every way. Who looked at her scars in bright candlelight and didn’t shy away. Just her luck Tommy would also turn out to be a total arsehole. He seemed surprised by her presence, his lush mouth pressed into a thin, straight line. Surprised was the wrong word. Intrigued. After Lupe dramatically stormed out of this very house earlier that morning, who wouldn’t be intrigued, to find her sitting primly at the table with a cup of cold tea.</p><p>Polly was at the current moment her favorite of all the Shelby clan. “I called this family meeting because you’re supposed to be smart, Thomas. You haven’t been.”</p><p>A storm he certainly was. At the very insinuation of critique, he straightened himself up, towering over everyone seated, pale, finely boned fingers wrapped tight around his ever-present cigarette. “You feel like explaining that remark?” He met Lupe’s deep amber gaze for the first time since he’d walked in the room. Looking into Tommy’s eyes was like staring into the sun. After a few moments, she was forced to look away from the brilliance and intensity of his face.</p><p>The older woman brought her hand down sharply on the old wooden table. “Grace is a rat. She’s working for the Inspector. That woman is playing you, and playing us all.” The toothpick that had lodged itself in Arthur’s mouth dropped to the floor.</p><p>Ah, there it was. The first undisguised, genuine emotion on Tommy Shelby’s face since yesterday. Nothing but sheer rage. He was practically stunned into silence. Everyone was, not just him. Of course, rumors had flown about Watery Lane of the blonde bombshell that had thoroughly captivated every single Blinder. “...” This was perhaps the only time Lupe had ever seen Tommy unable to produce a smart retort. The unlit cigarette snapped in his hand, snapping everyone else out of their trance with it.</p><p>“Guadalupe here saw it, with her own eyes.” Why on God’s green earth did Polly have to drag her into their squabble like this, thought Lupe.</p><p>Reluctantly she rose, capturing every man’s attention in the room as she did. Her hands fisted nervously in her plain brown skirt. “I heard them talking about something… something about the races. Whatever it is you’re planning, she knows about it. He kissed her cheek.” It was heartbreaking, to watch his jaw grind together and eyes go nearly black at her last words. He would never react that way if someone told him she’d been kissing someone else, Lupe was sure of it.</p><p>Polly paced the wood floor in front of them before stabbing a finger in Lupe’s direction. “She fuckin’ heard them, Thomas. We trusted you to lead us and look what you’ve fuckin’ done.” She was terrifying like this. Practically an avenging angel.</p><p>Lupe could almost hear the gears turning in his head, the calculations being made in real-time, the pieces fitting together for him before he opened his mouth. “You’ve got to prove it.” She threw a look at Polly, almost as if to say that she told her so.</p><p>The older woman was too busy snarling at Thomas to notice. “You don’t trust me anymore, Tommy? Not after everything I’ve done for us, done for you? No. Don’t speak. At all. We’re gonna take a vote on what comes next. The way things should have been done before you brought that rat into our beds. No more commanding us like we’re just your little servants. All in favor say aye.”</p><p>Jeremiah was brave enough to speak first into the pronounced silence that followed Polly’s announcement. “Aye.”</p><p>“Aye.” Scudboat.<br/><br/>“Fucking aye.” Charlie.</p><p>It was practically a coup. John, never one to be left behind or overlooked, jumped in with a strong “What the actual hell, Tommy? Aye.” </p><p>“We should have done this from the beginning. Aye.” There was Arthur, looking grim and the smallest bit victorious. Oh, that ‘aye’ enraged Tommy even more.</p><p>Everyone in the room turned to look at Lupe. She couldn’t fathom why. Oh, of course, they wanted her to vote. Thomas looked at her with unexpected vulnerability… and was that a touch of regret? “Aye.”</p><p>He turned to grasp another cigarette from his pack and lit it with steady hands. An exhale later, then he growled out “It’s settled. I suppose we’ll run the rat out of Birmingham.” His other hand went to his waistcoat pocket, fiddling almost absentmindedly with his pocket watch chain. She found him unexpectedly charming like this, tough and firm yet vulnerable and nervous. It was a side of him Lupe had only seen a couple of times before.</p><p>“That’s what I thought you’d say, Tommy.” Polly affirmed with a nod of her graying head.</p><p>Arthur cleared his throat. “What are we gonna do, Pols?” His voice sounded oddly mournful and gruff. Had Grace had him wrapped around her finger too?</p><p>An idea occurred to her. “If I may…” <br/><br/>“Out with it, girl.” The older woman made a gesture of encouragement, a proud smirk on her face.</p><p>She stood up. “Why don’t we force her to break cover and reveal herself? Give her no option. If she’s smart, which I assume she is, she’ll run herself out of town. The Inspector will be humiliated. She may be smart, but we can be smarter.” It made sense. A rat would only be a liability and a woman was even more so. The Peaky Blinders had dozens of associated members; they could warn the close family but not everyone could be insulated from harm.</p><p>“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” Tommy addressed her for the first time the whole meeting, his voice gentle like he was speaking to one of his horses.</p><p>Polly tapped the table absentmindedly as if gathering her thoughts.“The Inspector. He’s her weak point. Lupe says Grace called him ‘Chester’. She knows him personally, I’d put money on it.”</p><p>“Exactly. So here’s what we ought to do. We’ll plan to assassinate the Inspector and bring her along. Grace will have no choice to reveal herself. If she doesn’t, we go ahead and take him out and bring the war to Birmingham. That is what you wanted, right Tommy? With those stolen arms.” Let it never be said she had an intact sense of self-preservation at all. To be fair, there were quite a few things she’d done that Tommy let her get away with. Lupe liked to think he enjoyed the challenge.</p><p>His eyes grew lidded and hazy, the faintest hint of a smile coming to the statuesque lines of his face. Her instinct was right and she smiled in victory. “Guadalupe…” Tommy stepped towards her with hands out and reaching. ‘Slag’ still echoed in her mind, the pain of his barbed words settling in like bruises. Lupe pulled out of his reach.</p><p>Polly stood up once more. “This one’s got more brains in her than you lot combined. All in favor, say aye?”</p><p>A resonating “aye” filled the house. She could even hear a little ‘aye’ from Finn, the smallest Shelby brother who’d crept out of bed to peek through the bars of the staircase at the commotion going on.</p><p>“Let’s do it.” Thomas took a final drag of his cigarette.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Can You Feel My Heart?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>can you save my bastard soul? will you wait for me?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tommy's POV!!! I hope y'all enjoy. Also if you haven't figured it out yet, the chapters are named after the songs I listened to while writing them. If you'd like to listen to my playlist, I'll include it in the comments. I realized I fucked up the timeline of the show; I hope we all just go along with it if that's okay lol.<br/>I'm really nervous about writing from Tommy's POV. Please let me know if I do ok in the comments! I figure he's got a lot more depth to him than he lets on and tried to reflect that. The action will be back next chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She looked as beautiful as she did the first time he saw her. Thomas still remembered that night, most often in his dreams. When the tunnel came, when the sounds of skulls crushed in and the wheezes of a dead man’s breath echoed in his ears, sometimes she was there too. Just when the blackness caved in, a door would open and Guadalupe would step through, the smile on her face changing from forced to genuine upon seeing him. She would approach him, whether he was lying on the ground bleeding out or standing over the body of a young boy he’d slaughtered, and touch his face gently. Thomas always woke up immediately after, any tears long gone. He’d never told her that, never told her about how often she appeared in his dreams like a saving angel. Upon reflection of what he said to her the last time they spoke, maybe he ought to have said that then instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regret. Regret was a constant companion, a wound in his side that never healed. Tommy was used to the pain now, but regret at what he said to her, regret at how the light in her eyes died when he opened his mouth hurt anew. He didn’t deserve her, in truth. Didn’t deserve the loyalty or trust she’d shown. When that younger sister of hers appeared at their doorstep, in tears and out of breath, he’d known immediately something was wrong. Her broken English was clear enough; the Inspector was hurting someone who was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tommy’s anger burst from him like a forest fire, burning everything in its path. He called favors, pulled strings, paid off anyone he needed to. Tommy would have killed if he had to. All to keep her safe, to get her out of Campbell’s clutches. The bruises he left her with, the way she shook in his arms… Tommy thought only of torturing him for daring to lay his filthy hands on his woman. The self-loathing that had overcome him after she shoved him out of her way and stormed off filled him once more. He wanted nothing more than to peel off his skin, smash his fists into someone’s face, hurt himself for being a complete and utter bastard. The loathing, the rage at himself… it was more than he could bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like he was drowning in the dark tide of his thoughts, his mind playing that horrible scene over and over again. The light going out of her eyes. The tears he swore to himself he would never let fall. The way her beautiful mouth trembled, how her shoulders caved in like she was trying to protect herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was Grace. Tommy had been fucking stupid. He could admit it. That was a massive oversight on his part, letting himself become enchanted by an Irish barmaid who appeared in town the same day as an Irish inspector who had it out for him. Her betrayal stung, no doubt about it. She’d hurt his pride more than anything. His pride in himself, his intelligence, his ability to control everything in his favor. What to do about Grace? He kept his place at the table, deep in thought,  while the other men scattered, some to return to what they were doing before the family meeting, others to consider the plan Guadalupe laid before them. Charlie tapped him on the shoulder as he left to head back to the stables, a meaningful look in his eyes. “Tommy…” He started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t start.” Charlie stepped back with a nod at the iron in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was attracted to Grace. That much was apparent to Tommy. She was everything he couldn’t have and everything he figured he didn’t deserve. Pure, innocent, or so he thought, gentle. She never belonged in a place like Birmingham and when he was with her, he thought neither did he. Like Icarus, he’d flown too high and found himself knocked back down to earth. The two women who dominated his thoughts couldn’t be more different. Guadalupe, the prostitute who turned out to be far more loyal than he deserved. Grace, the lady who betrayed him from the start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace was smart, he’d give her that. She knew which buttons to press, what to say, what to sing, how to dress. Guadalupe was smarter, he thought, with no small amount of pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after he’d hurt her, she was loyal. The kind of loyal he respected, and returned. Why?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Polly was tidying up the remains of the tea she’d laid out earlier in the day when she saw the question in his eyes. That woman was an odd one, who always seemed to know his mind before he did. “Ask her.” Did she… approve? No. She looked angry. Angry at him. Well, she could hardly be angrier at him than he was at himself right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guadalupe looked lost and far younger than her twenty years, watching everyone but him scatter and busy themselves. Tommy decided to take Polly’s advice. “Guadalupe…” His voice came out rough and low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could practically read her mind, the way her gears turned as she tried to decide whether or not to speak to him. “Mr. Shelby.” Guadalupe had always been enchanted by him. He’d even known it. This was the first time she had ever been so cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… do you mind if we speak?” Oh, how Tommy hated himself. Hated what he did to her, hated how he trusted Grace. Hated the vulnerability in his voice when he asked Guadalupe if they could talk. Hated how much control she had over him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The way she fiddled again with her skirt in apparent nervousness did not escape his notice. “Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’sorry. I truly am.” He disliked the surprise written across her face as soon as he ground out his apology. Men like him didn’t apologize. He hated owing anyone anything, preferred to be the one who people owed things to, yet he felt an odd compulsion to apologize, to ask for her forgiveness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her silence was deafening. “...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. M’sorry.” Tommy had walked into lines of fire, survived bombings, killed and manipulated and schemed. He was a king on a chessboard and winning the war against a man just as brutal as him. This slight girl, far younger than him, sitting across the table made him nervous as he had never felt before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guadalupe sighed deeply, exhaling through her nose. “It’s alright Tommy. I… I forgive you.” She sounded hesitant and he despised that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vulnerability prickled his skin like clothes that didn’t fit. “Are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him, not nearly close enough to her smiles that he took for granted, but it was genuine. “We are.” Tommy enjoyed her forgiveness more than he should. Somehow, she’d gotten deep under his skin and etched herself deep into his mind. Even when they were apart, he longed for her, longed for the touch of her skin and the scent of her hair. He was weak. That weakness rankled, and if he was stronger he’d push her away, let her live life safely without him. Yet the joy in her eyes that had returned was addicting. She was addicting, far more intoxicating than opium. “Do you remember that time when we went to the countryside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had taken her with him on a ride to see the Lee family, a month ago or so. Guadalupe had been enchanted by the grass, the fresh air, the tall trees. Her delight was unexpected and refreshing. It was like Guadalupe belonged there. Around him, people tended to be guarded and fenced off. To be fair, so was he. Not many would show their feelings and be so vulnerable and open around him. Except for her. For some reason, he’d missed that. She’d gotten along just fine with Johnny Dogs and his kin, enchanting them the way she did him. All thoughts of business, war, and killing left his mind as he watched her dance with them to their Roma music, as he leaned against the caravan with a cigarette in his mouth and a slight smile on his face. This time when Tommy reached for her hands she didn’t pull away. “I do.” He affirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe clutched his hands tighter. “After this is all over… do you think we can go back?” That’s when he knew she’d truly forgiven him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what you want, love.” Love. He couldn’t fathom why he’d started calling her that. It just felt… right. He was a brave man, yet conversations of this nature left him frightened as a church mouse. Which Tommy hated. “...Why… why did you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Lupe understood what he was having difficulty articulating. “Why did I come back and tell Polly what I saw?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her turn to be hesitant. “I… um… I like you, Tommy. A lot. And I… I want you to be safe. I know you’ve got all these grand plans you won’t share, but I want you to be safe.” Love died in the war. But something stirred in his heart at Lupe’s words. She wanted him safe. Even when he’d hurt her she still wanted the best for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be.” Her smile at his answer was worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drew closer to him, so close he could see the gold flecks in her deep eyes. Sometimes, he felt like her gaze stripped him bare and revealed the recesses of his soul. “You promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise, love.” Tommy was a man who didn’t deny himself the pleasures he wished. So he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss felt like coming home.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Meet Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>aren't you glad to meet me?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More Tommy's POV! Let me know what you think! S/out to my friend Aishah for helping me with this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What about Grace?” He’d known from the way the look on her face changed that she would ask him about that. What about Grace? Grace was a problem he had yet to solve, a knot he was close to untangling. She could not be allowed to stay in Birmingham, that much was certain. The plan advanced during the family meeting would make sure of it, much as he loathed to let something out of his grasp dictate his actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had, in fact, crossed his mind, that this was some protracted plot on Polly’s part to separate him from something he wanted. Wouldn’t be the first time. But that’s not something Guadalupe would do. In the end, her sincerity and trust had convinced him. She wasn’t so easily led. Unless, of course, she loved the person leading her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want Grace dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That impulse confused him; were she anyone else, they would be dead already. Tommy felt that it might crush some small, vulnerable part of him to see those blonde curls matted with blood and the life bleed from her large green eyes. He schooled his face into an impenetrable flatness. It wouldn’t do for Guadalupe to see that vulnerability in him. That woman had an uncanny ability to sense when there were chinks in his armor. Sometimes he enjoyed it, but at times like this, he did not. Another cigarette was plucked from his pack and he lit it with practiced nonchalance. “You heard me earlier. We’ll run her out of Birmingham.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knowing look in her eye was enough to revive the feelings of loathing towards her that had earlier dictated his cruelty. She knew too much and read him too well. “And you? You gonna be alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances would he answer her implied question, especially not now and not about this. “Enough. We’re done here.” His voice came out lower and gruffer than he thought it would, as Tommy stood up abruptly from his chair. His footsteps echoed loudly in the silence that followed; he couldn’t bring himself to look back and see the heartbreak written on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John and Arthur. That’s who he had to deal with now. It was easier for him, so much easier, to slip away from her and the emotions she brought up in his mind, the ache she generated in his heart. He was the head of the Peaky fucking Blinders; what choice did he have?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy turned his will to the task ahead. By God and his will, Polly once joked. Well, God hadn’t met his will yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John stood outside, stocky and half a head shorter than him, a cigarette in one hand and an ale in the other. No doubt the Garrison kept him well supplied. His little brother’s eyes were bleary and his cheeks were ruddy. Sometimes, especially in times like this, Johnny reminded him still of the little boy who toddled after him with a plump face and grabbing hands, always trying to keep up with his older brothers. Tommy continued to make the mistake of treating him like he was still that little boy; John continued to remind him that he wasn’t. “Tommy…” He nodded to him, raising his ale in a mockery of a toast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John.” His disrespect rankled and Tommy took care to imply that with the edge in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother had once been affected by that edge, but as inebriated as he had managed to get in such a short period of time, he was able to roll off the words like water off a duck’s back. “You’re a bastard, y’know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel his temper rising; there wasn’t a single person in the world he’d take abuse from without snapping back. “I’ll not have that cheek from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John backed down, perhaps afraid of what he knew would happen next. “Fucking… why’d you do it, Tommy? How could you?” That certainly seemed to be the question everyone was intent on asking. Why had he let someone betray him because of her pretty face?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dismissed the question outright. “It’s not important. I need to speak to you and Arthur about what comes next.” This was hardly the time to unpack his thoughts with the peanut gallery; he’d much rather deal with the actual issue at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck you mean it’s not important?” John never took dismissal lightly, Tommy thought with amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided this would be the end of it. “John… leave it be.” The warning in his tone could not have been clearer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” His brother was never good with warnings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough. I’m sick of your shit. Shut the fuck up.” Something was satisfying about seeing his barbs were aimed true, seeing the self-righteous anger on John’s face crumple with his words meant to cut. Thank God, John took the hint and slunk off somewhere to nurse his immature rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy set off quickly into the night for Arthur. Who was found, predictably, in the Garrison. After the war, people had always been like that. Predictable. The world around him ran in cycles and if he could just keep track of them, keep ahead of them, he could control it all. ‘Twas a rare day when those cycles stood interrupted and he allowed it. His older brother sat alone in the Garrison, staring blankly into the whiskey in his glass. He slid smoothly into the barstool next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas.” Arthur acknowledged hoarsely without looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was there, wiping down the rich wood of the bar, trying to appear disinterested in Peaky Blinder's business and failing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his voice deep and low, barely above a murmur. “I’ve got everything in hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do ya?” Arthur sounded like he’d been screaming with how gravelly he sounded. Tommy knew it was likely cocaine, caught in his throat. Despite the blow, it appeared he would be more cooperative than John.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t do large gestures, not when the slightest of nods with the same flat expression on his face would do. “I do. We’ve gotta play it real careful, but the plan will work.” By his will alone, it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now there’s a plan, is there?” Arthur’s raised eyebrows were infuriating. Why was everyone determined to fuck with him today?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His silence spoke loudly enough. “...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A deep sigh echoed from his brother. They had their differences, certainly had butted heads often enough, but what mattered was how in the end Arthur always gave in. “Whatever you want, Tommy. Just don’t fuck us as you did with that woman, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got enough of this shit from John, don’t need it from you.” His cigarette was almost done; he’d need a new pack tonight at the rate he was smoking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur fucking finally turned his attention towards Tommy. “Yeah? Well, John was right to give you shit.” They never quit, did they? After the comparatively better mood Guadalupe put him in, everyone else acted like they wanted him to go fucking off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He backed down. He always did. Maybe before he might not have, but in the after, Arthur knew what was good for him. “Alright, Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna make her regret ever stepping foot in this town. We’re going to cut all the heads off Campbell’s hydra. We’ll make them pay, I promise you. What’s next? We’ll take this town from Kimber, just as we planned. And the Greens and the Lees will fall behind us when we do, I made sure of it.” Tommy leaned in and closed the gap between them to underscore his words before he gestured for Harry to bring him a glass of whiskey, allowing Arthur to take in his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s do it.” They walked together back to the townhouse in the earliest hours of the morning, well on their way to the drunken camaraderie that characterized a good day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they entered, the only person up was Guadalupe, sitting at the table with one of Polly’s shawls wrapped around her shoulders and tending the sole lamp illuminating the dining room. Ada, too exhausted to be a pain in his side these days, would have disappeared to bed long ago. Perhaps the girl should see a doctor. Another item added to the list in his mind of things that had to be done. The list grew innumerably longer by the day. When Arthur saw the heated look she tossed Tommy, he chuckled to himself then slunk off to his own bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, love.” He murmured, gesturing for her to follow him up the stairs and back into the bed she’d spent the previous night. There was a vulnerability in her eyes for a pleasant change. He supposed Polly hadn’t bothered to make sleeping arrangements for the family’s newest addition; no doubt expected her to bunk with him. Well, he wasn’t opposed to that in the slightest. Tommy guided her up the stairs with his hand on the small of her back; the heat of her skin through her clothes set his blood on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he’d been a little harsh on her earlier when he left. “Are you going to be a gentleman and show me to my room?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes; despite that, she still managed to make him chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the top of the stairs, she strode ahead of him and stopped outside his door for a moment to brush a stray curl back behind his ear. Her perfume was an intoxicating scent of rose and musk that went straight to his cock. “And what would happen if I was?” He asked lowly, brushing his forehead against hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He usually took control with his lovers but when she grasped his chin with her fingers as if to pull him within kissing distance of her mouth, Tommy found himself enjoying her assertiveness. “If you were, I’d be so forward as to ask where your room was.” Guadalupe sounded sugar-sweet and almost sinfully angelic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his mouth against hers gently. “There’s no need.” The door squeaked as it opened. Tommy would need to oil the hinges soon. She was colorful, lighting up the room brighter than a lamp. When she wasn’t there, the gray walls closed in around him and choked him as the tunnels did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of her finely penciled eyebrows raised. “Is this how I’m paying for my board?” The balmy air was so thick he could feel it heavy on his skin. With the door closed behind them, Tommy was completely enveloped in her scent, her presence, completely safe from the world. Here, all sins were forgiven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps.” He wanted her. That much was clear. The coat he’d had since before the war found itself draped over the bedpost. Their eyes met, and Guadalupe seemed to understand his dishonorable intentions. She made her way towards him once more, dropping the shawl to the floor as she reached for his tie. Clever girl. A fingernail traced his throat, ever so slightly digging in like a warning that she wasn’t planning on letting go, as she pulled apart the knot with her other hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without giving her the chance to get the upper hand, he threaded his hand into her long, dark hair and yanked her into him, the flush pressure of her breasts against his chest further hardening his cock. Guadalupe went to throw the tie away when an idea came to mind, one that teased at his darkest impulses. “We’re going to need that.” He murmured in her ear, biting down gently on the tender flesh of her neck as he grasped her wrist. The wicked smile she gave him was answer enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, as if touching a work of fine art, he pressed her wrists together behind her back and she went willingly, letting him wrap the tie around her wrists and knot it securely. She tested the strength of the bonds for a moment like she was daring him to hold her tighter. Never one to back down from a challenge, Tommy grasped her fine, white neck with one calloused hand, the quick fluttering of her pulse under his fingers in time with his own aroused heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was like a sparrow resting in the palm of his hand; completely under his control. He would never claim to tame such a wild creature, but he certainly liked caging her in with his body, liked hearing her sing for him in gasps and moans as their tangled limbs moved together. Her plain blouse was of worn cotton. With a single swift motion, Tommy ripped it from her shoulders. Learning how to make bandages had alternate uses, it seemed. “I needed a new blouse; thank you for giving me a reason to get one.” Even through the haze of arousal, her quip landed true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled darkly. “My girl, I’ll buy you as many as you want.” The hand around her neck pushed her down to her knees before he slipped his erect cock out of his slacks. Every time she got on her knees before him, he never thought she would manage to fit the entirety of his large dick in that smart mouth of hers. Every time Guadalupe surprised him.  Every time she swallowed it down and he could feel himself brushing up against the back of her throat, Tommy could swear he saw stars. With that wicked tongue of hers, she traced the veins of his cock, drawing a deep groan from him. Guadalupe was excellent at that. She had an almost intuitive knowledge of what best pleasured him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally stopped teasing him and took him in her mouth, the sweet suction of her hollowed cheeks creating such an incredible sensation. He let his eyes close and his head fall back, pumping his hips back and forth. Guadalupe pulled back for a moment to look at him, her large doe eyes peering up at him from where she knelt on the floor. Fuck, she looked so innocent with his cock in her red mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled off for a moment, allowing a strand of saliva to remain and connect them, before swallowing him whole again. Even without her hands to aid her, she still managed to take him in her mouth and make his hips stutter as he pumped into her, drawing him closer and closer to orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love, you keep going like that and I’ll be finishing in your mouth. And I think we both wanna have a little more fun before I’m spent.” Tommy warned, practically moaning out the sentence. Guadalupe’s mouth was far too busy to answer him back. He pulled her head back by her hair. “Answer me, girl.” God in Heaven, she drove him crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mischief entering her eyes promised him trouble. “Yes... Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Tommy’?” His grip tightened and her eyes rolled back in her head for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yes sir.” A drop of saliva mixed with precum gathered at the corner of her mouth and he wiped it off with his thumb, taking some smeared lipstick with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bent down and muttered into her ear. “There’s a good girl.” With a large hand spanning the width of her upper arm, he pulled her up. Before she had the chance to regain her balance or feeling in her legs, Tommy gently pushed her down onto the bed, face first and arse up. Lupe was certainly blessed with a good arse, round and plump in all the right places. Giving in to the temptation to run his hands along her arse down towards her thighs was one of the easiest things he had ever done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breasts were practically spilling out of her brassiere onto the bed as each twitch of her spine liberated more and more flesh from her clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brown skirt that kept her hidden from view was pushed up around her curved hips. Tommy drew her knickers down next, exposing her slick cunt to the hot air and giving him a deep breath of her heady scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t resist for a second longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking only the time to brush his fingers against her clit and collecting some of her arousal to rub on his dick, he pushed in, forcing her cunt to swallow him whole. Her moan was the sweetest sound in the loud silence of the house. “Sir…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all of Tommy’s self-control to move slowly, to allow her tight pussy to adjust to his length. She was always this tight if he hadn’t made her cum on his tongue once or twice before he fucked her. So tight he practically couldn’t fucking move at all. “My good girl, relax, that’s it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he bottomed out again, the head of his dick nestled against her cervix, she whined and struggled as if trying to decide between fucking herself on him or attempting to get away from the sensation of being penetrated. The struggle only made him harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please sir, please… I need you…” She begged, a proud woman reduced to a desperate slut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fucked her slowly, ever so slowly, torturing her in the sweetest way possible.“Need me to what?” The tight, velvet pressure of her cunt felt like heaven. It felt like he belonged there, his dick buried inside of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Split me open… wreck me… please… I’m begging you…” Her arse bounced as she wiggled her hips, her body crying out for him to move, fuck her harder and faster. Well, since Lupe asked so politely…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every thrust into her clenching heat sparked stars in his vision, felt absolutely incredible. He sped up almost unconsciously, pounding deep into her cunt as she moaned and whined; writhing beneath him like a goddess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Tommy fucked her harder and harder, he used one hand to grab hold of her hair once more, forcing her back to curve up and change the angle at which he was wrecking her. In this position, his cock brushed up against that sweet spot deep inside her, signaled by the tightening of her pussy in time with his thrusts. “Tommy… please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what? Please what?” He couldn’t help but mock her goodnaturedly, only barely holding it together as he neared his peak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe was in a similar state, her cunt practically spasming around his dick as he plunged into her. “I’m gonna... Let me… Let me cum.” He almost came right then, hearing this beautiful woman beneath him begging him for release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Together… We’ll do it together my love…” He let her slump back down to the bed, bringing one hand to angle her hips up and the other to play gently with her swollen button. “Come on… come on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered as she came, clenching around his cock. He had to stop moving for a moment, just push himself in as deep as he could go while she spasmed, pure white light beneath his eyelids as he painted her insides with cum. With a final thrust, Tommy collapsed to the side of her, careful not to crush her under his muscled bulk. His trembling hands went to untie the knot keeping her bonded while she curled up into his side, all the energy and fight fucked out of her. Lupe smiled at him as he propped himself up by one arm and massaged the red imprints on her wrists. “‘My love’? Where’d that come from, Tommy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love died in the war, along with all things good and happy. When he was with her, all disappeared, all was forgotten. “Don’t you worry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She understood him and his moods better than most did. With that, Lupe pressed her head into his chest and fell asleep, her soft breaths puffing across his sensitive skin. His last thought before he fell into a dreamless sleep was of her and the way she smiled when she danced.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Hayloft</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>my daddy’s got a gun, you’d better run</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aaaaand we’re finally here! Grace, in the flesh. Hope y’all enjoyed Tommy’s POV, we won’t have it back for a little while. Don’t forget to comment if you enjoyed or have a critique for me to work on!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The night had been a blessedly silent one, filled only with the scent of roses. He awoke before she did, slipping quietly from her soft arms as she slept. He’d never wanted to leave his bed less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled a new set of clothes out of the bureau and put them on quickly, crisply folding back his collar and buttoning his cufflinks. Tommy left the room with one last lingering look at Guadalupe</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly was sitting at the dining table when he came down, sipping a cup of tea and looking far too much like the cat who got the cream for his liking. “Pleasant night?” She queried with a smug tone in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glare he sent her way lacked its usual heat. “It’s too early for that Polly. Business is what we must attend to.” He poured himself some tea, no sugar, no milk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too early for some light teasing but not too early for business?” She was good at getting on his nerves, that was for damn sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly took his insults typically in stride, so sometimes the best way to respond was to not respond at all. “...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Business it is.”<br/></span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>On days like this, Tommy felt less like an actor and more like a spectator. A director, watching his hard work move in perfect synchronicity. The Greens were mobilizing their own to cause a brawl on the edge of Small Heath, just past Peaky Blinder territory. The Lee family were in town as well to cause trouble, some petty arson, broken windows. An exact parody of what the coppers did to Small Heath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of this carefully choreographed chaos to isolate and expose the man himself; Inspector Campbell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Polly called the family meeting and promptly informed him that Grace was working for Campbell, he’d had the urge to throttle the man with his bare hands. Far too many times had he meddled with Tommy’s business, family, and now women.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of which, Polly thankfully agreed to hold the fort at home in the event the coppers came ‘round. ‘Twasn’t suitable to have all the women in the line of fire, despite what Ada would have one think. And Guadalupe… well, if she’d known what was happening and knew he was moving without her, no doubt he would see that wicked tongue of hers turned on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the chess pieces were in place. Now, it was time for the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was man enough to admit that Grace wounded his pride. Pride in himself, his ability to control everything and every factor. How could he not have accounted for this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well this time, everything was accounted for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black Star day would have to be moved up, he thought. Better to strike Kimber when the Inspector was still reeling from the blow they were moments away from dealing with him. The police wouldn’t be able to manage the necessary forces to stop them. Rather, they were likely to run around like chickens with their heads cut off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There she was, Golden curls bouncing in the early morning sunlight, eyes glinting like fine jewels. A day ago he might have found the sight of her carrying her handbag with aristocratic delicacy charming. “Get in the car, Grace.” She always looked so happy to see him. Now, from the way he barked at her, not so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped by the car, reaching out a gloved hand to brush against his cheek. He jerked away like he’d been burned. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in the car. Now.” He demanded. After a moment of looking into those sad, haunting jade green eyes he’d come to loathe, she acquiesced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drove in silence before Grace broke it. “Talk to me, please…” Out of the corner of his eye, two vehicles, one manned by John, the other Charlie, flanked him. Arthur was already waiting in position, sniper rifle trained on Campbell’s head. A back up in the event anything went wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let the silence stand. A sick pleasure welled up in his chest at letting her squirm, the traitorous bitch. “...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as they came to the constabulary, Tommy pulled to a harsh stop. Arthur was killer with a sniper rifle, but he preferred the shotgun. The shotgun disassembled in his hands with practiced ease. “You’re scaring me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed hold of her porcelain face with one hand, shotgun freshly loaded in the other. “What you’re going to do is you’re going to sit right there, look pretty, and not move an inch. D’ya hear me?” When Tommy let go, he could see red fingerprints on her chin. The sight pleased him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plan was a smart one. She provided a convenient human shield on the off chance Campbell figured out what was going on. If their connection was true, as Lupe said it was, he wouldn’t shoot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace grabbed hold of his arm and begged with tears in her eyes, “What in God’s name are you doing?” Her cries (tears?) did not move him. Hot rage began to burn beneath his collected facade as he reassembled the fully loaded shotgun back together. The moment when she understood what was happening was obvious; the fear across her face increased to a degree that would have been alarming once upon a time, when she saw the inspector hurry out of the constabulary. “Please… put the gun away… I’m begging you.” He’d begged her to be with him once. How ironic that she was now begging him. The reversal left a sweet taste in Tommy’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deaf to her pleading, with anger practically choking him silent, he aimed the gun square at Campbell’s head. “One… two… three…” Tommy murmured to himself quietly, just loud enough to send Grace into a fresh round of sobs. Time slowed down and he counted seconds, half seconds, the thudding of his heart in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She aimed at his head with shaking hands clutching a tiny pistol. “Stop.” Some small part of him had hoped beyond belief that she was innocent, just a good girl caught up in Polly’s schemes, the kind of woman he had been searching for. When Grace raised the gun to his head, that part of him died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace…” Tommy cast his eyes on her for a split second, shotgun trained on Campbell with accuracy borne from the war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears poured down her face, sending tracks through her rouge and powder. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do this. Put the gun down or I’ll shoot.” With hands shaking that badly, he doubted it. If she did shoot, she was likely to shoot him in the leg then do any major damage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrenaline coursed through his veins like lightning. Her every nervous twitch, the way her chest heaved with desperate breaths, the passerby strolling past the car in blissful oblivion. Campbell, climbing into a police car. None of it escaped his notice. “You won’t do that.” He’d always been a gambling man. As soon as Campbell was out of sight, he swung the gun around, fast as a whip, with the tip pointed straight at Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think I won’t? I will.” If he wasn’t so fucking furious, the beautiful woman in front of him holding a gun would have aroused him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was reminded of the horse Johnny Dogs traded him, gorgeous, noble, terrified. “You’re not like that, Grace. You never were. And I liked that about you. But you… you betrayed me from the start.” He soothed, letting a razor’s edge enter his voice, face as placid as a still lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ She was practically frantic, curls shook loose of her immaculate updo and blood went from her cheeks. No doubt it was the anxiety. He’d felt the same, before he saw the boy felled by his own bullets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The urge to know the truth overpowered him for a moment. “Was anything we had real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, just let me explain.” That was all Tommy needed to hear. None of it had been real. None of it. Grace was a manipulative bitch who had played them all, especially him. She made him sing and dance to her tune, made him a fucking fool and exploited every single one of his weaknesses. In that moment he could have killed her, could have ripped the heart from her chest with his bare hands. He never wanted to be weak like this again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart felt like it was breaking further with every second. “Get out of the car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy made his decision in an instant. “Get out of the car. And if you know what’s good for you, out of Small Heath. Out of the fucking city. And let me never see your face again. For that, I’ll let Chester live.” Unlike Grace, he knew how to be true to his word. He might lie, cheat, steal, and kill, but by God he would not play with someone’s heart and soul like this woman did. He would never stoop to such lows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached for him with her free hand and he batted her back with practiced ease. “I love you, Tommy. Please-“ Her voice, that enchanting voice that soothed him so, was filled with sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Grace.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Scared To Be Lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>is the only reason you're holding me tonight<br/>cause we're scared to be lonely?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW TW TW TW TW TW<br/>Those tags? Yeah I put them there for a reason.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’d risen to an empty bed, just like the last time she had slept in this room. The feeling of melancholy was as pervasive as the silence in the house; Tommy had left without her. Without saying goodbye. The next time he thought to leave her behind without a word, she would have his head.</p><p>Last night had been… like a dream. Only in her wildest fantasies did he ever come close to reciprocating her feelings. The sweet ache between her legs and in her jaw reminded her this was no fantasy. ‘My love’. Did he get off on confusing her? Tommy’s moods were like the wind; constantly shifting in unexpected directions that knocked her off her feet. Lupe had learned somewhat how to predict them, or at least how to stay on her feet. He always managed to surprise her. Was there a chance he might come to love her? She shook her head as if to shake out those thoughts. Better not get her hopes up.</p><p>What was Lupe to wear? Tommy had ripped her blouse, smeared her makeup, and her skirt was covered in remnants of their sex. Perhaps this was another devious plan of his, to keep her waiting and naked for him. Polly came through the door without knocking, scaring her out of her wits. “What the actual fuck?” She demanded, pulling the threadbare sheets up to cover her bare chest.</p><p>The older woman greeted her with a smirk. “Don’t be shy, I’m sure this isn’t the first time someone has caught you after the act, so to speak.” A red bundle was thrown at her and she let go of the sheets in order to catch it. A qipao, brasserie, stockings, and knickers. How did she- “That sister of yours stopped by near dawn with your things. It appeared that she had snuck them out. Loyalty runs in the family.” Xiaoyu. She was alright. More than that, she still loved her enough to make sure the things Lupe treasured most in the world were alright. Despite her depression, she smiled. “Get dressed. We’ve got to talk.” Polly’s serious tone shook her out of her nostalgic reminiscing.</p><p>“Alright.” With fast and practiced precision, she changed out of her worn clothes and into fresh ones. The qipao wasn’t something she typically wore outside of the brothel, but Lupe’s supply of more casual clothing had dwindled and she had little choice. She paused for a moment in front of Tommy’s grime-coated mirror. The red flattered her skin, brought color back to her cheeks, and the cut of the dress hid the worst of her scars and marks. A quick dash of the crimson lipstick she kept in her handbag and she was ready to face whatever Polly had in store for her.</p><p>At the dining table sat Polly and Ada, the latter of the women nursing a plate of eggs with an ill look on her face. The baby. The herbs must not have taken. Of course, Lupe knew better than to be a snitch and would continue keeping her secret.</p><p>She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Ada’s odd behavior. The older woman paused just as she was about to take a sip of tea to examine Ada’s figure. “Stand up, girl.” She commanded. The girl seemed like she was about to start a fight but Polly’s tone brooked no argument. Even Lupe could see it; the smallest curvature of her stomach through her loose dress. “How late are you?”</p><p>“Aunt Polly-“ She pleaded, still trying to hide the bump by angling her body away from Polly’s piercing gaze.</p><p>The amount of ice in her voice could have frozen over a lake. “Ada, I said how late are you?” A hand reached out to grab Ada’s arm in the likely event that she tried to flee.</p><p>Lupe was well familiar with this particular song and dance. She’d seen it play out a dozen times at the brothel. Minding her business was the best course of action. The combination of Polly’s glare and the increasing pressure on Ada’s arm eventually got a straight answer out of the girl. “...Four months.” Four months? Too far gone for those herbs to work. Foolish of her to try. She could have killed herself.</p><p>Satisfied with Ada’s response, Polly let go and leaned back in her chair to light a well-deserved cigarette. “Well. Who is he? Who’s the father?” Lupe decided to make herself a cup of tea; it appeared Polly and Ada would likely be going at it for a while.</p><p>“I can’t tell you who.”...That was not a smart move. A brave one, certainly, but not a smart one.</p><p>The sound of Polly’s teacup hitting the table made both of the younger women jump out of their seats. “The fuck do you mean you can’t tell me who? You bloody well will. Who knocked you up, Ada?” She sipped her own tea with plenty of cream and sugar. Their family drama was always entertaining.</p><p>“He’s not in the city anymore.”</p><p>“‘Not in the city’?” Lupe mirrored Polly’s incredulity. Not only did she go and get herself pregnant, but pregnant by someone who’d run at the first chance? That was not a fate fit for the princess of Small Heath.</p><p>“But he’s coming back!” A fool. Ada was a fool. Not for getting herself knocked up, no. For doing it and ending up like any common whore.</p><p>Polly snapped. “No he’s fucking not and you know it.”</p><p>Tears came to the younger girl’s pretty blue eyes. “You don’t know him like that! He’s coming back!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know cause I don’t know who the fuck he is. Tell me. Right now.” Lupe tensed. If things got ugly she was prepared to spring out of her chair and get between them.</p><p>“Freddie Thorne.” Now there was a name she didn’t know. Freddie Thorne? Who the fuck was that?</p><p>She was about to break their standoff to ask when Polly finally responded. “Tommy is going to kill him.” Well, that told her really all she needed to know about Mr. Thorne. If Tommy would actually commit homicide over Ada’s state, Mr. Thorne was bad news. “Enough of that. Ada, go to your room and stay there. Keep out of Tommy’s way until everything is all over.” The girl didn’t need to be told twice; she abandoned the eggs she hadn’t touched and scurried up the stairs.</p><p>Polly watched her go with something like regret in her eyes before turning to fix Lupe with her iron gaze. “I suspected as much for a while, but you didn’t look surprised at all.” Oh fuck.</p><p>The truth. The truth was always better. “She came to me the day the Inspector arrested us all, asking after tansy.”</p><p>The older woman smiled for the first time that morning. “One of her smarter decisions. If Ada had known better, she would have known tansy doesn’t take after the first 6 weeks.” Lupe’s teacup was nearly empty; she could see the dregs of ground tea leaves forming patterns at the bottom of the cup.</p><p>“I didn’t realize she was that far along. Who’s Freddie Thorne?” The pinched, unhappy look returned to Polly’s face at the mention of his name.</p><p>“Other than the gangs, which you surely know about, we’ve got two other factions in Birmingham. Fenians and communists. Freddie is of the latter variety. Boyhood friends with Tommy. After the war? Not so much.” Communists? She remembered the news of the May Fourth riots. Lupe had silently agreed with their cause but found no place in it for a whore. Their dream of a world without exploitation and oppression was one she could believe in. “I apologize; it appears we’ve gotten sidetracked from what I originally wished to speak to you about.”</p><p>Polly offered her a cigarette and she lit it up. The bitter taste of smoke in her mouth was comforting in its familiarity. Lupe gestured for Polly to continue, waves of smoke lingering in the hot summer air.</p><p>“You’re one of us now, so you deserve to know. Tommy pulled all sorts of strings to get you and your girls out of jail. In return, he has demanded Green support for Black Star Day. And you.” The older woman stubbed out her smoke in the ashtray, watching Lupe for any discernible reaction while doing so. A test was afoot.</p><p>She had the sense that what she said next would influence how Polly saw her, and thus influence her standing in the Peaky Blinders. “‘Black Star Day’?” It appeared Lupe had chosen correctly from the smirk that twisted the corners of Polly’s lips up.</p><p>“You know Billy Kimber and his Italian boys have a stranglehold on the city. And you know we have that shipment of military arms. Well, your Tommy has had the daft idea that we’re going to overtake Billy Kimber and his pitches at the Worcester races. The Peaky Blinders will own this city.” Now was not the time to process ‘your Tommy’. She needed her priorities in order. If Tommy was really going to go through this, though not if, Lupe thought, when, he was putting himself and the rest of them directly in the line of danger. That fucking idiot. Billy Kimber was not to be trifled with; he has been all but banned from the brothel for damaging the merchandise. Repeatedly. No, it would have been far safer to stay out of his way.</p><p>Polly once again displayed her unerring talent for mind-reading and nodded in agreement. “Yes, it would have been. But he wouldn’t be Tommy Shelby if he played life safe.”</p><p>“It’s brilliant. And daft. If he succeeds…” She sat back in astonishment, mind frantically calculating all the ways this could go right and the even greater number of ways this could go wrong.</p><p>The older woman started a new cigarette, looking decades older with weariness. “If he succeeds we’ll be kings of the city. And if he loses this gamble? We’re all likely to lose our lives.”</p><p>She had never been a gambling woman, but for Tommy Shelby, she would be. “He won’t let that happen. If there’s anyone who can pull this off it’s him. Him and God.” Lupe said with confidence. Time would only tell if that confidence was misplaced. “You said something about me?”</p><p>“I did. Tommy… demanded you as well as payment. You specifically. Wouldn’t take any of the other whores the Greens offered. They acquiesced in the end. If you hadn’t come running here going on about Grace, girl, they might have delivered you themselves.” It was too much to take in all at once. He’d demanded her. Specifically her. What use did they have for a Chinese whore? The Peaky Blinders weren’t known as fleshmongers, so it wouldn’t make sense for Tommy to be planning to start his own brothel. Why? Why did he do it? The questions she had for him and would likely never ask piled up by the minute.</p><p>Lupe opened her mouth to ask Polly instead when the front door slammed open. In marched Tommy, flanked by John and Arthur. All three looked grim as death and twice as frightening. The other woman stood up as soon as they made their appearance, her back straight as a steel rod. “What in God’s name happened?”</p><p>Tommy was as guarded as a fortress. “You were right, Polly. The girl was a traitor.” His face, as if a statue carved from marble, conveyed no emotion at all. “Pulled a gun on me.” She almost got up from the table automatically to check for wounds but his attention was fixed solely on Polly.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>Weariness seeped through his stone facade. “I told her to get the fuck out of Birmingham if she knew what was good for her. She’s gone, and she won’t be back to bother us.” He swept his peaked cap off to reveal tousled black hair, a far cry from his typical precise, well-groomed appearance. The short, curt sentences he was speaking in were a bad omen. “John, Arthur, Polly. Let everyone know. Black Star Day is tomorrow.” With that final, death knell pronouncement, Tommy disappeared up the stairs without another word.</p><p>Lupe sat there in stunned silence.</p><p>“Go after him, girl. You’re the only one who can talk sense into him right now.” The older woman practically ran from the room, hastily grabbing her coat and hat and slamming the door behind her. In the meantime, the rest of the boys disappeared to God knows where.</p><p>Lupe didn’t want to go after him. At all. She sighed in the resulting silence. If she didn’t go after him now she would lose all nerve.</p><p>Every step of her shoes on the stairs sounded like thunder in the quiet.</p><p>She found him staring in the mirror, fists clenched and knuckles white. “Tommy…” She murmured as if trying to calm a horse.</p><p>“Am I going mad?” His voice resonated deep and hoarse. And still, that stone facade with nary a crack in it on his face. Did he ever get tired of wearing a mask?</p><p>She decided to ask him. “Of course you aren’t, Tommy.” He dismissed her weak attempt at comfort with a single toss of his head. “Do you… do you ever get tired? Of bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders alone?”</p><p>Tommy fixed her with those blank eyes as if staring right through her. “I have no choice.” He sighed out, shoulders sagging. She found herself sitting on the bed, opposite of him, as he looked like the man he had been fresh from the war. Lupe reached out to hold his hand and he pulled away out of her reach. He must have truly felt like he had no choice but to live like this. Alone. The only man in the world against the armies of Hell.</p><p>She would try to get through his thick skull if it was the last thing she did. “I could share in that burden.”</p><p>“No, you can’t. No one can.” His rough Birmingham brogue sounded almost musical to her ears. Sometimes Tommy was hard to read. Other times, she seemed to know just what he needed to hear.</p><p>Lupe took a deep breath to fortify herself before screwing her eyes shut. The memories flowed faster than the ocean’s tide. “You’ve never asked about my scars.” She’d gotten his attention now. It was disorienting, even unnerving, to be the focus of all that intensity. </p><p>She didn’t want to see his reaction. How odd, to be terrified of someone else’s emotions. “...I didn’t choose this life, you know. I was ten years old when my mother put me on a ship bound for London. Only ten. You’ve never asked about my scars. Well. Men liked having a little girl in their beds. They got off on my innocence. It always hurt, each time. Especially the first time. They would beat me bloody and choke me unconscious when I screamed for help. No one ever came. The madames even started whipping me when I refused to go into the rooms with customers. Later on, I realized that if I stole a straight razor and carved marks into my skin, the pain would go away. So would the customers. Every line I opened up on my body was an addiction. The pain never brought fear, only clarity. I taught myself how to go away when a customer came, to leave my mind and not come back until he was done. Sometimes the only way I would come back is if I took that razor to my skin.” There. It was done with. </p><p>Her eyes opened at the feeling of him taking her small hand in his larger, calloused one. “...What changed?” Tommy murmured. Where his eyes had been ice, they were now soft like sea glass, tumbled in the waves. New tension entered his jaw, the lines of his shoulders. She pressed closer to him and he let her.</p><p>Lupe traced the little snowflake-like scars on his hand with her fingertips. She kept her gaze lowered to those scars, so like her own, so she wouldn’t have to see his face anymore. “Xiaoyu. My little sister. The girl I sent here after Campbell took us all. She was scared and young, just like me. And I didn’t… I didn’t want the life for her that I was given.” Lupe had taught her everything. How to go away. How to come back without hurting yourself. Eventually, when she got older, how to fake enjoyment. All to protect her in the horrible place of life they’d found themselves in.</p><p>When he tipped her chin up with his fingers, their eyes met again. Tommy looked at her like she was fragile, delicate, like she would shatter in his arms into a million pieces if he touched her the wrong way. Maybe she would. Gently, ever so gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “My brave girl.” Tommy always knew what to say to make her smile. All that suffering and pain felt worth it, to be in his arms. “Don’t you ever be ashamed of your scars, Guadalupe. You’re beautiful, and so is every single part of you. Beauty like yours should never be hidden.” He pressed his forehead into hers and they just sat there, looking into each others’ souls.</p><p>“And you?” She managed out, tracing the tattoo on his chest before brushing her thumb against his generous mouth.</p><p>“Ah. That’s a rising sun, for the men I served with who never came back.” Lupe thought it only made him more beautiful. Tommy took her hand from his face and brought it to touch a smattering of places along his torso. “Bullet wounds from the war.” His shirt came up to expose a lightning bolt of knotted, white scar tissue running along his side. “A broken beer bottle from a brawl when I was 16. Nearly did me in.” The snowflakes on his hands. “Digging the tunnels in France. I must’ve ripped my hands open a dozen times a week.” His vulnerability nearly broke her heart.</p><p>Tommy had only been like this before when he was paying for her services. Now, he gave her his wounds and his trauma freely, openly. She couldn’t help but kiss him slowly, passionately, before resting her head on his chest. His hand came up to stroke her hair and she melted into him.</p><p>When Lupe pulled away, he was looking at her like he might look at a holy relic. Like she was his savior. “I don’t want you to go.”</p><p>He kissed her again. “I know, my love.” Tommy’s voice was still as hoarse as before, but softer, subdued. Almost… loving.</p><p>“Come back to me?” She hated herself a little bit for pleading for him to come back. A tear, then another, then another ran down her face. Don't leave me, she thought. Don't leave me as everyone else has.</p><p>He brushed his hand against her face like he wanted to imprint what Lupe looked like in his mind for the rest of his life. “I can’t promise you that. But I’ll try.”</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Calm Before The Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i'm ready to settle the score</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>When we hit 100 comments, I have something special planned that I'll dedicate to the 100th commenter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy left in the misty gray of the early morning. They had spent the night seeking each other’s eyes out in the dark and pressing their hands together in silence. Neither she nor he could sleep. Right before they stepped out to face the world, he pressed a goodbye kiss to her mouth. Lupe savored it like it would be the last kiss she’d ever have. If everything went wrong, it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly and she saw the men off; they filed one by one onto the streets of Small Heath in silence, soldiers off to war. The summer sky was filled with clouds and fog as if God himself wept for the battle that would be taking place that day. Billy Kimber and his boys were nasty pieces of work. She’d never met the man himself, but he had a liking for Xiaoyu and specifically hurting her, to the point where Lupe had to be restrained from finding him and cutting off his dick. Fear had taken hold of Lupe’s heart since Tommy announced they would be taking them on and hadn’t left in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many things could go wrong. These many moving parts were nothing but a massive risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur was sent to gather the Greens, who were to act as infantry, while John connected with the Lees at the Worcester Races. Esme, John’s spitfire wife who spent much of her time with her Romanichal kin, decided to remain in the encampment with the other women. And the guns… the guns were to be retrieved last minute from some graveyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was bound to go wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly was almost out the door when Lupe stopped her. She could practically smell the panic in the older woman’s voice. “Where are you going?” Polly didn’t answer, only busied herself with getting out as quickly as possible. That’s when Lupe knew. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeremiah tipped me off. The coppers are planning to raid the guns we’ve got secreted away. That bitch must’ve told them where to find ‘em. Only explanation.” Grace. Their loose end. Even when she wasn’t there, she still managed to fuck everything up. The only people who knew where the guns were would have been the Shelbys; the only person who would have given up their secret would be the woman who tricked every one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed her coat with matched urgency. “I’ll go with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two women sprinted across Small Heath to a quiet graveyard on the edge of Peaky Blinders territory, Polly leading the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were too late. Far too late. Campbell himself was there with ten men, barking orders like the prick he was, the guns dug out of the coffin in the ground already. She could see tears in Polly’s eyes, catching in the headlights of the police car. Without these guns, the Peaky Blinders were no match for Kimber’s boys. Tommy. John and Arthur. They’d all be run out of Birmingham, arrested for stealing arms in the best scenario. Worst scenario? Massacred. Lupe couldn’t let that happen. She refused. She thought of Ada’s baby, who hadn’t even been born yet and deserved to live. The family she would never get to find. The first time Lupe saw Xiaoyu with a shiner on her cheek and marks on her wrists from being held down. Tommy, and the way he wiped away her tears and smiled with his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d always been taught to mind her business and stay out of trouble. But for the people she loved, Lupe would never back down. She’d rather die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The police turned their backs for a moment, coordinating the vehicles they brought to transport the weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, she had become particularly foolish recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe ran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly tried to hold her back, to keep her behind the large memorial they were crouched behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pure adrenaline pumped into her veins and she felt invincible. She ran, and she ran, and she ran. Before anyone could react, Lupe had a gun under one arm and a magazine in the other hand. “Hey! Get back here!” The coppers shouted. She didn’t dare look back, or all would be lost. Hail Mary, full of grace...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe heard the gunshot before she felt it. Blood ran hot and wet down her arm in thick streams, coating the magazine. She kept going. It was odd; there was hardly any pain. Just an icy numbness that spread up her upper arm into her shoulder. She kept going. The streets blurred together. Her breath felt permanently stuck in her lungs. Lupe’s legs ached something fierce and her skirt tangled between her legs. She kept going. For Tommy. For Ada’s baby. For everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur caught her as she blindly stumbled between their standoff. Tommy and Kimber, each with a gun pointed at the other’s head. Switchblades out on both sides. The Blinders and the Greens evenly matched by the Italian boys. The pain came with a fury, burning her arm up as she collapsed into Arthur’s arms, the gun and the magazine dropping to the cobblestone road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t breathe. Black crept through the edges of her vision until he shook her awake. “Girl, girl! Come now, don’t go down like this.” Arthur muttered. Lupe tried, tried to haul herself back on her feet. But the pain came in waves now, keeping her down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get her up.” Tommy’s voice was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Not for a moment did his aim waver. For him, she would get up. Charlie collected the gun off the floor with urgency and loaded it, pointing the large weapon at Kimber’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking Kimber. “I know you. How is that sister of yours doin’, I wonder?” He sounded as slimy as his hair was, slicked back thick with oil. She wanted him dead. Right now. Someone, probably Arthur, held Lupe back from lunging at him with her bare, blood-covered hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep her name out of your bastard mouth.” She snarled, seeing red. If only her hands would stop fucking shaking, she’d be able to push her way out of the arms that trapped her and go for his goddamn jugular. He looked merely amused at her words like one was amused with the bear who did tricks at the circus. Lupe wanted to take that sickly smirk off his face with her nails. The blood caked on her hands should be his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed in her face. “She’s a spitfire, that one. I’d tell you to keep a better leash on her, but I don’t think you’re capable of disciplining her like that, Shelby.” Kimber talked about Lupe like she wasn’t even there. Like she was a piece of meat. Well, to him, she probably was. Prick. The man must’ve heard her say that out loud because he burst out in deep, malicious laughter. When her eyes finally stopped swimming and her vision cleared, the pistol was trained directly at her face. “I think I’ll kill her first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s face stayed the same; like an unforgiving statue carved from marble. “Touch her,” He threatened, “ and I’ll peel your skin off.” The only sign he was the slightest bit affected was the way his gun barely trembled in his hands. Billy’s only response was to cock his gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was how she was going to die, Lupe thought. It was a good way to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time slowed. She watched, almost out-of-body, as he pulled the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the ringing in her ears cleared from the point-blank shot, Lupe opened her eyes to see two men lying in the dirt in front of her. One with a shaved head and blue eyes with the light slowly draining out of them and a deep crimson stain in his chest. He was familiar. She’d seen him before. But not so familiar. Where was Tommy? The other man down, Kimber, had his head blown open. Bile made its way up and she stumbled free of the group of men to throw up at the gory sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Lupe opened her eyes again, she was staring up at the gray sky. The taste of iron filled her mouth and the scent of gunpowder filled the air; she could feel saliva dripping down onto her chin. The pain was gone, replaced by the world around her contorting into fantastical shapes. The king was dead but his men fought on. A man’s dying groan after being shot. A switchblade being opened up. It all came to her flashes, moments of time, as she lay prone on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy, alive and well, his eye freshly blackened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hail Mary, full of grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He appeared before her like an avenging angel. “Guadalupe,” He called. “Guadalupe.” The sensation of blood drying under her nails made her want to rip them off, but she couldn’t move. It took all of her energy just to breathe. In, out. In, out. The sounds around her echoed in her ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy clutched his side and she tried, she tried to reach out for him. Tried to stretch her hands out and press them to his wound. All Lupe could manage was a twitch of her red fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue sky broke through the clouds. Or were those his eyes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, everything was quiet.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Burning Pile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>all my troubles on a burning pile, all lit up and i start to smile</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pain in his side was nothing compared to the pain of watching her drop like a stone and collapse in the road as if she were a puppet with her strings cut. Her plain blouse was stained deep red from upper arm to wrist and the sticky red liquid coated her hands</p><p>Billy Kimber was dead. They had won. Charlie with the machine gun she brought mowed down enough of the Italian boys to send the rest running. Danny lay face up in the road, finally at peace. Arthur was fine, clutching his hand to a knife wound on his forearm.</p><p>He ran.</p><p>“Guadalupe,” Tommy tried. No response. “Guadalupe.” Her alluring eyes fluttered open for a moment and he sighed an imperceptible breath of relief. The woman in his arms seemed to recognize him and she smiled. Lupe went limp again. He tried to lift her into his arms but the place where a bullet clipped him in the side protested violently. Tommy could guess where she’d acquired the wound and why she’d bled so damn much. So much blood… His life was doused with blood, his and others, but the sight of hers set his hands trembling. The trenches. The tunnels. The young boy who’d met his end from the butt of his rifle.</p><p>When Arthur and Polly appeared by his side, Tommy couldn’t help sitting back on his knees and looking up at the gray sky, praising whatever higher power existed that they were all alive. He never meant for Lupe to get involved. She was supposed to be safe at the house with Polly and Ada. Somehow, someway, she’d ended up bleeding out half her lifeblood on the Small Heath cobblestones after hauling a machine gun nearly a mile.</p><p>“C’mon Tommy, we’ve got to move her.” Arthur shook him roughly.</p><p>The motion startled him out of his mind and back to reality. “Alright.” Tommy would be embarrassed ordinarily by the way he almost dropped her at her horrific groan of pain, but these were not ordinary times. His older brother tried to pull her from his arms; Tommy held on tighter. He ran, the houses by him passing by in a blur. When they got to the house, Ada was waiting with bandages, 190 proof alcohol, and laudanum. Without a doctor, Polly and she were the best they had.</p><p>“Get her on the table.” The sickly scent of roses and iron filled his nose. His aunt spotted the ill look on his face and shooed him away. “You picked a bloody fool, Tommy. Go get yourself cleaned up; you’ll only get in the way.” He usually could brush off her brusque manner but this time it chafed. Guadalupe couldn’t die. Tommy wouldn’t allow it.</p><p>“Let me help.” His words came out far more gravelly than he would’ve liked. Why the fuck did this always happen when he got attached?</p><p>Arthur, mindful of her words, tugged on his arm to guide him out of the kitchen. “No. You’ll be useless when it comes to her.” He said, an unexpected kindness in his rough face.</p><p>The white shirt and grey coat he wore was covered in blood, some hers, some his. Tommy stripped out of his clothing as fast as he could and abandoned them to lie in a pile in the corner so he could scrub her blood out from under his nails in the washbasin. Fuck. He hated himself. Tommy wanted to smash the mirror with his fist and feel the glass cut into his skin, wanted to open up the wound in his side until it was critical. Maybe then he’d get some fucking relief from the hatred and fury that bubbled up like tar.</p><p>When he gathered up the courage to make his way downstairs again, she was laid out on their old, worn sofa, arm bandaged white with red seeping through. Tommy had never seen her so pale, so drained of color. Typically Guadalupe lit up a room and drew everyone to her. Now she looked wan and lifeless, halfway a corpse from the blood loss. He never wanted to see her like this again.</p><p>Polly made her way out of the kitchen, a dishrag wiping bloodstains from her worn hands. “Sewed her up good. ‘M not taking the bullet out unless you’re planning on getting her to a hospital.”</p><p>A hospital. No. Even with Kimber out of the way, the coppers were still itching for any reason to take them out. “You know I can’t do that, Polly.” His answering words made her sigh and collapse into a chair.</p><p>They lit cigarettes at the same time; the nicotine brought sorely needed relief to his nerves. “That’s what I thought. It’s the blood loss and infection we have to worry about. If Guadalupe gets worse we’ll have no choice.” Infection. Tommy saw plenty of good men succumb to fever in the war. He’d even been there when a few passed on. The thought of her, cold in the ground like them, made the blood drain from his face.</p><p>The itch, the craving came roaring to life. Tommy thought of the opium in the nightstand, which brought tears to her eyes the last time she saw it. Laudanum, well within reach. Morphine, a bribe away. Anything, anything to dull the pain, the memories, the ache from the blank look in a dead man’s eyes. “Mm.” What could he say? Nothing. Tommy’s hands shook as he smoked; there was nothing he could do, no one he could shoot to save her from this. Helpless. He was fucking helpless.</p><p>Polly knew exactly what was on his mind just by looking at him. “You’re gonna get her killed one day. She’s a good girl. Doesn’t deserve that.” Her voice was flat and even.</p><p>“Not if I can help it.” By God and his will. Tommy would protect her. Protect them all. Even if it took everything he had. Even if it killed him. His fist clenched around the smoke, almost snapping it in half. Control. Everything was out of his control. Everything was collapsing around him. Even though he’d won against Kimber, what use was it when the people he did it for were in danger?</p><p>Tommy thought of Arthur, beaten bloody. John- John. His little brother. Was he alright? Where was he? He fought the urge to gather up his family and lock them away somewhere safe, where no one could touch them.</p><p>He must’ve said something out loud because Arthur answered with a bloody grin. “Jus’ got word. John’s alright. No need to fuss.” The older man poured himself a stiff drink before continuing. “Got some better news for you. They took all the pitches. We control the races now Tommy, jus’ like you planned.”</p><p>All thoughts of her flew from his mind as the panic and fear died down, replaced by cold, hard rationality. John hadn’t just done what he asked; he’d gone even further. They now held all of Birmingham by their wallets in a tight grasp that couldn’t be broken. Power. Control. He had them all. For now. Tommy was a fucking king. “Where’s he at?”</p><p>“He’ll be by soon, sure he’s just tyin’ up loose ends.” The empty glass slammed down on the side table.</p><p>“Tell ‘im not to dawdle.” With that final pronouncement, Tommy retreated to the office. He needed quiet. He needed to think. All thoughts of the woman on his kitchen table bled away from his mind, replaced by an insatiable urge for the next battle. The next war. It would never be enough; never enough to fill the dark recesses of his mind. He would burn the whole world down if it meant he wouldn’t feel so fucking empty all the goddamn time. With John and Arthur by his side, Tommy would be invincible.</p><p>Another smoke found its way into his hands, hands that were steady now. What was next? London. Liverpool. The whole of fucking England. Tommy would be invincible. Immortal. He’d fight a thousand battles, kill a thousand men if it meant he and his would come out on top. He would burn empires and rip the wings off angels. He’d kill God himself. There Tommy sat, chin resting against clasped hands, thinking, planning, calculating what move to make in the chess match between him and Life when Polly knocked on the door. “Thomas? She’s asking for you.”</p><p>Guadalupe. She was awake. Life would have to wait.</p><p>Her eyes were still bleary as she looked around, yet it brought unexpected joy to his heart to see them open. His name slipped past her chapped lips, quieter than a whisper. “Tommy…” Guadalupe called.</p><p>His hand brushed against her forehead gently, feeling the unnatural heat that emanated from her body. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”</p><p>“You’re alright. Thank God.” Lupe tried to reach for him, only to wince when she attempted lifting her left arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m making you take care of me-”</p><p>He shushed her. “Love, don’t worry, just rest. You couldn’t make me do anything.” Some of her hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat; Tommy brushed it away. “You just focus on getting well, you hear me?” She still looked half-divine even with a bullet hole in the arm. The way Lupe looked at him… like she would do anything for him. The girl had certainly proved it. Why?</p><p>Her response startled him out of his thoughts. “if you command it, so it shall be.” Tommy recalled the terror of watching her drop. Her dead weight in his arms. Ice filled his veins and he pulled away from her. No. Never again. Never again would he put her in the line of danger. Even if Tommy had to handcuff her to the radiator so she couldn’t escape and do something foolish like this. The faint smile that bent the corners of her mouth up disappeared when she saw his face, his tense posture, the perfectly meticulous way he poured himself a drink.</p><p>The whiskey burned as it went down his throat and Tommy wished for nothing more than the sweet oblivion of the opium. “Polly, I’ve go to go. Got to check up on John an’ see what he brought in.” Tommy turned his back to her so he wouldn’t have to see her eyes flutter closed and a single tear track its way through the grime and blood on Lupe’s face.</p><p>His aunt looked outraged. “You’re not gonna stay with her?” Why didn’t anyone fucking understand? Men like him would never be ordinary, would never be able to wait by a bedside for a woman when there was work to be done. They’d won this war, but Campbell was sure to bring another to their doorstep. If Polly planned on not seeing the inside of a jail cell by ten in the evening tonight, she would let him go. “Fine. Go. You absolute bellend.”</p><p>Maybe he was running. Maybe he was weak, and not man enough to stay by her side. The decision was already made; Tommy put his cap on with sure fingers avoiding the razor sewn into the brim. The chaos in the world outside matched the chaos that raged in his mind and heart. People running in the streets, screaming at the side of dead bodies. The wounded Italian boys dragging themselves back to their houses. Coppers, coppers everywhere. The sound of sirens reminded him of the air raid sirens during the war.</p><p>He stepped out into the evening and disappeared into the throngs of people who covered the streets of Small Heath.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chemtrails Over The Country Club</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>nobody's son, nobody's daughter</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Our 100th comment surprise! This is probably my most research-heavy chapter. Just adding that this is a FLASHBACK<br/>Romani people are one of the most oppressed and disenfranchised populations in the world, especially in Europe. Peaky Blinders has notoriously done them a disservice and fallen into a variety of problematic stereotypes.<br/>One of the goals of this story was to be realistic and authentic in the portrayal of what England in the 1920s looked like; a variety of people from a variety of different backgrounds and lived experiences.<br/>While I would never claim to be writing authentically from a racial perspective I cannot relate to, I can say that I did my very best to be respectful and authentic in portraying the life and culture of Romani people living in England (Romanichal).<br/>Sources will be at the end.<br/>Italics in this chapter denote words spoken in Angloromani</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A month ago</strong>
</p><hr/><p>The sky was as blue as his eyes and the sunlight shone down golden and bright on her skin. Lupe inhaled, taking in the sweet scent of fresh grass. In all the years she lived in England, she had never left the cities. Sometimes clients would whisper sweet stories of a mansion tucked in the countryside, but she always knew those whispers were nothing but words. Tommy was the first man to make good on his promise to take her out with him.</p><p>If she could, she would have loved to spend the rest of her life touching the rough bark of trees and treading over fallen leaves, picking flowers to put in her dark hair.</p><p>Tommy was not a man who smiled often, but the sight of her with cowslip and primrose tucked behind her ears and clutched in her hands brought the smallest of smiles to his face. The country suited him, Lupe thought. He seemed younger, more at ease, the perennial weight on his shoulders lifting just a bit, as he leaned against his shiny car with his hands in his pockets. Tommy’s eyes followed her every move, drinking in her giggles and the way she looked at wild animals in pure awe. They were God’s creatures, just like the two of them, and Lupe had never seen so many different beasts in her life.</p><p>They were running from the choking smog of the city which only worsened in the late April heat. More than that; they were running from the responsibilities that kept them tethered down like caged birds.</p><p>He didn’t tell her where they were headed when he picked her up from the Quarters. Rather, Tommy presented her with a brown paper-wrapped package and told her to go put it on. Ada must have helped him; Lupe didn’t think he had such immaculate taste in ladies’ clothing. The dress was beautiful. Luxe, daisy yellow silk and lace. She had never owned such a fine dress in her life. Shulan had a wide-brimmed straw hat accented with a yellow satin ribbon, which she borrowed. And off they went.</p><p>The drive through the fields and forests was silent but not uncomfortable. There was nothing either of them needed to say; she simply sat there and basked in the warmth of his presence. With her, the ice in his face melted. When they did speak, about the good weather or the different kinds of flowers that lined the road, he kept his eyes fixed on the road and genuine enjoyment radiating off his open posture. Neither of them typically found small talk fulfilling, but that day it was. They were pretending; pretending they were just a man and a woman on a drive through the country. It was a good sort of fantasy.</p><p>“You’ve never ridden a horse?” Playful incredulity sounded in his deep voice.</p><p>“No,” She chuckled goodnaturedly. “Horse riding was never meant for women like me.”</p><p>Tommy stopped the car for a moment to fix her with his brilliant gaze. “Well, love, I can tell you that you’ve never lived until you’ve sat atop a fine horse.” In the sunlight, she could see hints of warm brown in his black hair.</p><p>Lupe tilted her head like a bird might, spritely and curious. “Would you teach me?” She could feel a blush rising in her cheeks from her bold request.</p><p>The lines around his eyes crinkled in a real smile. “I’d be honored.” His voice was soft in her ears. A promise for the future; a promise he would wish for her company in the future. Lupe knew better than to believe a man’s promises, but Tommy was the sort of man one put their faith into. The blush came in earnest now. </p><p>He started the car again and they drove in the quiet pleasure of each other’s companionship.</p><p>When they came to a stop they were in a grove of beautiful trees, shading the two of them from the sunbeams. Under the dappled light, Tommy somehow fit in despite his fine, new suit.</p><p>Circling the grove was a caravan of wagons, vardos, as Tommy called them, brightly painted in jolly colors. The people of the caravan were his kin. Big, strong horses grazed nearby and little children laughed and danced about the clearing, weaving patterns with their feet.</p><p>“Johnny Dogs!” He called out. A man, perhaps a few years older than Tommy, with the Shelby dark hair and high cheekbones came walking towards them from one of the vardos. His brown tweed flat cap was set jauntily on his head, tilted to one side. However, he lacked the instantly recognizable blue eyes.</p><p>The man, Johnny, clapped Tommy on the shoulder while shaking his hand. “Tommy Shelby, as I live and breathe. <em> How’ve you been, boy? </em>” They spoke in a language she couldn’t understand; Lupe didn’t take it personally. That was simply the way of people who didn’t speak English among kin.</p><p>He looked animated as he spoke, even with his straight posture and hands in his pockets. “<em> I’m too old to be your boy, Johnny. Well. I’ve been well. Whole family is.” </em> They must be old friends, or family. Lupe had never seen him nearly this light and casual in Birmingham. Judging by the physical resemblance, she’d put money on family.</p><p>“<em> And who’s this? </em>” Johnny turned to her, no doubt asking about her. He looked her up and down with an interested eye, taking in the yellow dress, the way she hid her bare arms behind her back, and likely the color of her skin and the shape of her eyes. Lupe met his gaze straight on; there was no malice behind it, only friendly curiosity.</p><p>Tommy pulled a cigarette out of his new pack and lit it up. “<em> ...A friend. </em>” The scent of smoke didn’t suit their vibrant surroundings.</p><p>Johnny pulled a smoke of his own from behind his ear and borrowed Tommy’s lighter, before pointing his cigarette at her. “<em> If she’s just your friend, boy, you’re dafter than I thought. </em> What’s your name, sweetheart?”</p><p>She could tell he was genuinely good-natured and proceeded to smile winningly at him. “Guadalupe. A pleasure to meet you.” He motioned for her hand. When she placed it within his grasp, he laid a kiss on it.</p><p>Tommy’s face closed up tight for a second at the gesture. Men; she could never understand them. “Ah, after the Virgin. Good name. You can call me Johnny Dogs jus’ like old Tommy over here.” The other man proceeded to ignore whatever conniption Tommy had worked himself into.</p><p>Lupe inclined her head in thanks. “Thank you for having us, Johnny Dogs. Everyone calls me Lupe.” Everyone except for Tommy, oddly enough.</p><p>The conversation drifted on without her. She took the opportunity to look around, to enjoy the sounds of birds calling and children laughing and the feeling of a fresh breeze on her face. When she tuned back into the conversation, Tommy had his eyes fixed on her. “This one’s got some mighty fine manners. Good catch, boy. It is a pleasure to have you, sweetheart.” Johnny doffed his cap jokingly and her laughter soared out bright and cheerful. “The two of you should stick around. There’ll be dancing in a bit.” With that final invitation, he wandered off to grab a little boy and swing him up on his shoulders in play.</p><p>She loved children. Always had. Lupe had spent most of her life around them, as was typical of a brothel. Unlike some, the Greens did not feel so inclined to separate infants from their mothers. Children, however, were not in the cards for her no matter how much Lupe wished. Her longing stare drew her companion’s attention.</p><p>Her smiles came freely and with ease. “Do you dance, Tommy?”</p><p>“Not particularly.” Ah, as she suspected. The great Tommy Shelby likely didn’t have time to go dancing, as busy as he was with being the toughest man in Small Heath if not all of Birmingham.</p><p>Unluckily for him, Lupe had a good sense of which buttons to push to get what she wanted. “Not any good at it?” She baited.</p><p>Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was seeing his kin, maybe it was being away from the dirt and grime of the city. Tommy was in an unusually pleasant mood. His smoke stubbed out on the ground, he reached out and caught her hand in his before interlacing their fingers together. “Maybe I’ll show you how good I am later…” He whispered in her ear. That pleasant mood only seemed to increase at her visible delight.</p><p>The next couple of hours passed quickly for the two of them. At some point, her hat made its way to rest on the grassy ground, abandoned so Lupe could wander without worry. She listened to Tommy speak in that low, musical language with the men of the encampment, smoking while crowded around the entrance to a vardo. An old woman brought her slices of fresh-baked bread wrapped in a clean kerchief. In between smokes he’d seek her out to press kisses to her brow, show Lupe a bird singing in a tree, point out the edible plants in the clearing and watch her taste them. Lupe had never seen him so happy before. She could love this man, she thought. She could love him.</p><p>A woman took up a seat on the back of her vardo, singing a slow love song with a sweet voice. Around her stood two men, one with a fiddle, the other with spoons in hand. “A blacksmith courted me…” she sang.</p><p>The same children frolicking in the meadow earlier gathered around to dance with earnest clumsiness. Her eyes met his, and she stretched out her hand in silent invitation. It was too beautiful a day for him to ruin it by rejecting her; and so, Tommy took her hand.</p><p>Just the two of them, swaying gently in a wooded clearing. For all she knew, the rest of the world could have disappeared. It was just them and the music. Despite his professed lack of practice, Tommy was an excellent dancer who moved smoothly and kept rhythm well. His hand clutched her waist and Lupe could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of her pretty yellow dress. Up close to him like this, she could smell him; a heady blend of soap and leather and something uniquely Tommy.</p><p>And those eyes… well, Lupe thought she’d remember the way his eyes looked in that moment for the rest of her life. The afternoon sun caught the blue of his irises and made him look unearthly, like she was hand in hand with some pagan god from long ago. “A blacksmith courted me…” The woman sang on. </p><p>She was suddenly aware of his body. Aware of how close he was. Tommy drew her even tighter to him, pressing their flesh together like he never wanted to let her go without ever moving his gaze from the curves of her face. If Lupe had her way, she would have frozen this moment in time forever.</p><p>Their kiss was sweet and slow as if they were just two ordinary people existing side by side. Right then, they were.</p><p>When Lupe pulled away from his plush mouth and fluttered her eyes open, slightly dazed, she could see such tenderness and vulnerability in him, in the way he clutched her waist tighter and in the way his eyes fell on her swollen lips with longing. I love you, she said in her mind. I love you. Tommy Shelby always read her better than most and perhaps he saw the unspoken words in her eyes because he leaned down to kiss her again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Vardos are covered wagons specifically used by Romanichal people in Britain.<br/>Angloromani is the dialect of Romani spoken by Romanichal. Here, I portray Tommy as being able to converse in it.<br/>Lee is an Irish surname, and the Lees of the show speak English in Irish accents while also speaking Angloromani. Irish Travellers and the Romani people are two distinctly different peoples with different languages, cultures, and origins, who share a nomadic lifestyle. However, there was intermarriage. To reconcile these differences, I am of the personal headcanon that the Lees are a combination Irish Traveller and Romanichal family.<br/>Intermarriage between the two groups was not uncommon. Freda Black, a Romani woman born in 1927, married into an Irish traveller family herself. A documentary documenting all the songs she learned from her parents and in laws is available on Youtube and served as a firsthand source for this chapter. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7enWzAE0lc&amp;t=1746s&amp;ab_channel=SongCollectorsCollective<br/>Here's further info on Freda: http://songcollectors.org/tradition-bearers/freda-black/<br/>"A Blacksmith Courted Me" is one of the songs she sang in the recording, and is a traditional English folk song. I thought it was appropriate.<br/>This wonderful article published by RomArchive details what instruments were traditionally used by Romanichal and the importance of song and dance to their cultural expression: https://www.romarchive.eu/en/music/northern-and-western-europe/romanitraveller-music-uk-and-ireland/<br/>This article written by a woman of direct Romani descent details some common foods shared by the different Romani clans, along with information on the oppression Romani people face, and is the reason I wrote the sharing of bread into this chapter: https://www.thedailymeal.com/how-eat-real-gypsy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Kodak & Codeine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>when you're far, i will follow you, when you fall, i will fall with you</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry in advance lol. Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter/this arc by leaving a comment down below!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pain in her arm woke her from her dark, dreamless slumber. She remembered only moments from before; Polly forcing a bitter liquid down her throat that soothed the frayed nerves in her arm, a rough hand brushing her forehead gently, angry, raised voices.</p><p>When Lupe finally managed to open her eyes and prop herself up on the headboard, she was back in Tommy’s room. He was alright, thank God, and asleep in a chair by the bed. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes and the shadow of whiskers on his chiseled face. Between the disheveled clothes and the exhaustion written on his face, she could imagine what happened; he had been waiting for her to wake up. The sight brought a smile to her face.</p><p>It had all been worth it. Lupe thought she’d never been as brave in her entire life as she had been in that moment, sprinting out from behind the monument to grab a gun to protect the people who’d taken her in. And to destroy a man who threatened someone she loved time and time again. She loved him, and it was worth it.</p><p>Her hand, still with dried blood under the nails, reached out to trace the delicate bones and veins of his right hand, which was resting on the bed. How odd it was that a hand so fine could be so brutal when he chose.</p><p>Tommy woke with a start.</p><p>There was something… off about him. Off about the flat look in his eye. He had never looked at her like that before. Like there was nothing behind those glassy blue eyes. Like she was nothing to him. It scared Lupe. “You’re awake,” he murmured.</p><p>She tried to manage a small smile for him but the muscles on one side of her face protested. “Hi.” Her voice sounded weak and frail. To be weak around Tommy Shelby was an exercise in futility sometimes, she thought. “Have you been here this whole time?’</p><p>If possible, his expression grew even more emotionless. Lupe had the feeling he was retreating within himself somewhere she would never be able to find him. “No.” His voice matched his body language, flat and even.</p><p>“Oh.” What had happened to him?</p><p>Hesitance was unlike him, yet that emotion shown through in the way he paused as he spoke.  It didn’t suit Tommy. “I was… out.”</p><p>“Everything alright?” She had an inkling of what was coming next.</p><p>When it came to Tommy, she really ought to listen to her instincts more. “I can’t be the man you want me to be, Guadalupe. I can’t be the man who sits by you when you’re hurt and holds your hand as you grow better. I can’t take you to the countryside every day and dance hand in hand.” He confessed, his eyes fixed on the stitched-up bullet hole in her arm. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “you deserve that man.”</p><p>Lupe looked up at the ceiling and counted cracks if only to buy herself more time to respond. How did one respond to that? At least he was telling her upfront, she thought morbidly. Rather than stringing her along, he decided he wanted to try and cut her loose. She could respect that, even if Lupe hated that he was trying to push her away. She wanted to throw the towel in, call him a tosser and leave his life forever. She wanted to beg him to let her stay. Lupe didn’t know what she wanted. She closed her eyes, scenes of every time he’d ever smiled at her playing behind her eyelids. “Alright.” What else could she say? Lupe opened her eyes to see him staring at her face now.</p><p>At her words, Tommy got up from the chair abruptly to pace the room, trembling hands folded behind his back. He stopped for a moment to wave a hand in the air to annunciate his words. “‘Alright’? That’s all you have to say?” Agitation showed through in his deep voice.</p><p>“What do you want me to say, Tommy? You call me your love, your family welcomes me, and what, you want me to just walk away from you? Because you aren’t man enough? What the fuck is wrong with you?” She could feel tears budding in her eyes and hear the way her voice broke. Weak. She was weak for him. Earlier Lupe thought love made her strong. Right now, she’d never hated her capacity for love more.</p><p>He collapsed on his knees by her bedside, eyes wide. “Forgive me. Forgive me. I can’t be what you deserve. I’ll never be like that. There are… things I need to do. Goals to accomplish. People that must die. That is the life I was born for. And you… you don’t deserve that kind of life.” That’s what this was about. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the insatiable lust for control that rooted like a sick weed inside of his heart. Tommy couldn’t even put it aside for a moment to allow himself to be loved. There was something… so goddamn sad about that. He looked the part too, like a tragic hero in a silent picture.</p><p>“What makes you think you can tell me what I deserve?” She said hoarsely. For God’s sake, she was a prostitute. Not a saint.</p><p>Tommy reached his hand out to hold hers and then the moment their skin made contact, pulled it back like he’d been burned. “I’ve thought it over, Guadalupe, and you should be safe. And happy. Far away from me. I’ll bring you nothing but pain. Already have.” Safe. Like she’d been any safer turning tricks on the street. Fear gripped Lupe’s heart; would he turn her out? Where would she go? She had no money and no one.</p><p>Her anger, all hot and black, boiled over. “If you think you’re getting rid of me that easily, Tommy Shelby, you’ve me all wrong.” Lupe lashed out at him before grabbing his wrist quick as a whip as if to physically keep him from running. “I’ll not have you push me out of your life.” He seemed like he wanted to run, to put as much distance between the two of them as he could. It broke her heart to see Tommy like this. So intent on some misguided belief that he would keep her safe when he was really crushing her heart into little pieces. Lupe knew him, knew his broken pieces the moment he walked through that door and into her life with tragedy in the slope of his shoulders. There was no part of him that would scare her; she loved them all. Maybe that would be the death of her one day, but God, it would be worth it.</p><p>Tommy looked almost confused. Like he couldn’t believe she was standing her ground and not running for the hills at the first chance. “You don’t understand-” His fist slammed down onto the side table.</p><p>Her arm ached something fierce and Lupe could feel the bandages growing damp. “No, you don’t! I love you, Thomas Shelby.” She cut him off, tightening her desperate grasp on his other hand.</p><p>Stunned into silence, he gave her just enough slack that she could pull him close enough to brush foreheads. “...”</p><p>Lupe continued on in an unintentionally soft voice that revealed exactly how deep her feelings ran. “And I think I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.” She hated herself something fierce. Pathetic. She was fucking pathetic. Lupe knew her self-esteem was just low enough that she would beg just to be in the orbit of a man who could never love her. Who would ever love someone like her?</p><p>Tommy managed to pull himself from her grasp and get to his feet, running a white hand through his dark hair. “I- I can’t-”</p><p>She knew instantly what he was trying to say. Tommy was lying to himself, she thought, but if she pressed too hard on that he would break instead of bend. “I don’t care that you can’t love me back. I don’t need that. I’ll live without your love as I’ve lived the whole rest of my life; just fine. But what won’t be fine is if you push me away and won’t let me love you. Love- Love isn’t selfish. It’s selfless. I think somehow, somewhere, you’ve forgotten that. I love you. And I’ll take whatever you can give me.” Love was a poison, one she would gladly drink. What else did Lupe have? She’d lost everything else, and could only cling to the one thing keeping her afloat in the turbulent sea of her life.</p><p>Silence reigned in the growing space between them.</p><p>Just as he made for the door, Tommy paused and turned back. “I’m sorry.” There were a million things he could be sorry for. Maybe, Lupe thought, he was sorry for them all. Sorry for running. Sorry for not being able to stay. Sorry for forgetting exactly what love felt like when he wasn’t paying for it.</p><p>“I know. Nothing to be sorry for.” Forgiveness was a specialty of hers.</p><p>He pressed on. “I don’t deserve you.” Unlike the bullshit Tommy spewed earlier, this was perhaps one of the few truthful things he’d said.</p><p>“Maybe not. But life doesn’t work that way.” For one long moment, they stared at each other, with her weakly lying against the headboard and him moments away from running, running from her, running from the way she felt and the way she made him feel. Without another word, Tommy turned away from her and disappeared down the stairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I won't be uploading tomorrow as I have a busy day and some medical stuff to deal with, but I'll be back on Saturday! Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Seven Devils</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>holy water cannot help you now</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry, this is a short one. please leave a comment if you still enjoyed! we've wrapped up one arc, on to the next.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Any thoughts of her and the revelation she revealed to him were put away as soon as he left the room. It was easy to lock away his emotions in favor of the strong steel of pure rationality; he’d done that practically his whole life. “We end this. Now.” Tommy pronounced coldly after he swept down the staircase, the pace of his steps like a military march.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly knew from the dark timbre of his voice exactly who he was speaking of. “Agreed. Campbell must go.” A breath of cigarette smoke exited her pursed mouth. “His guard is up now, but we ought to strike while the iron is hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checked the time on his pocket watch; almost afternoon. “Arthur, get the rifle.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>In his chess game against Life, Tommy figured the move he was about to make would be checkmate. Arthur, his knight. Polly, his bishop. John, the rook. Guadalupe… A small, unbidden part of him whispered “queen”. No. His hand twitched as if he could brush that thought away. Tommy wished often he could brush away the way she made him feel. The way she tempted him. Even now, staring down the scope of a sniper rifle trained at the gray head of Chester Campbell, all Tommy could think about was the rose and honey scent that permanently lingered in his room, even when she wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game waited for no one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This plan was far simpler, almost primitive, compared to his usual fare. Kill Campbell. Frame the IRA. Easier said than done. Even Tommy had heard of the Fenian found shot in the alleyway by Black Swan, rumored to have been done by an agent of the Crown; with Campbell’s reputation, his assassination would likely be blamed on disgruntled and armed Fenians with a bone to pick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John had already done his part to bring this to fruition, hours before Tommy sat there with his scope aimed at Campbell’s head. His brother’s favorite working girl had a brother in the IRA. He had paid her a visit and while getting his pleasure, whispered certain words about Campbell and his location to her. Already informants on his payroll had observed movement and the collection of arms. Unluckily for them, by the time they got there, Campbell would be dead already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he was back in the war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breath almost choked out of his lungs and he could feel his throat closing up. Tommy thought nothing of plots and schemes, thought nothing of assassinations and chess moves. Only cold steel in his hands and a man, a human being, in his sights. The metallic tang of iron filled his mouth; Tommy fought the desperate urge to drop the gun and empty his stomach contents on the rooftop they were positioned on. The sound of bones crushing. The dull thud when a man dropped dead. The cold that took over the empty body, mirrored in his soul. Everything was too much, too bright, too vivid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Guadalupe had been there, not laid up in bed with a bullet hole in her arm that she took for him, she would’ve held him, covered his eyes with her hand, and let him drape himself so close to her that Tommy wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and she began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it was, Arthur elbowing him in the side would have to suffice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sting jolted him back to reality. Mind cleared, Tommy repositioned the gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One. Two. Three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Campbell’s blood and bits of his white skull shown vividly in the weak, gray British sunlight.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>but i have it</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter, and all chapters going forward, are dedicated to Helen McCrory. Rest in peace.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>December 1919</strong>
</p><hr/><p>As she stood between the end of Tommy’s gun and Freddie Thorne, Ada’s sobs loud in the background, Lupe couldn’t help but regret the promise she’d made Ada; the promise that if it came to it, she would stop him.</p><p>“You’re the only one who can.” The younger girl begged, hands covering her heavily rounded stomach. “He won’t listen to anyone else, I’m sure of it.”</p><p>In the moment, Lupe had been flattered that Ada thought so highly of her. Despite her flightiness and tendency towards excess and drama, all of which could be forgiven, the princess of Small Heath had a good heart and idealism that reminded her of Xiaoyu, whom she missed above all.<br/>It was with this in mind that Lupe had agreed to facilitate the confrontation between the two siblings and Freddie.</p><p>Polly and she had kept Ada’s secret for as long as they could, even sending her to the countryside with Esme’s kin for a bit to keep her out of his path and away from his mind. By the time he found out, it was far too late.</p><p>Of course, as many things went when Tommy was involved and angry, everything went to shit.</p><p>Perhaps the sole thing that kept him from slapping his sister across the face when he found out was that she was extremely pregnant. Instead, Tommy had turned his anger towards Freddie. “Where’s that fucker?” He had demanded in that quiet voice that promised nothing but trouble. When Ada didn’t respond, too scared to make a peep, the man had stormed off into the afternoon sunlight with the two of them in tow, ostensibly to find and kill the man who’d knocked up his sister. Well, Tommy certainly achieved the first part of his aim and was well on his way to achieving the second. “Get. Out. Of. The. Way.” He growled at her through gritted teeth.</p><p>Lupe remembered watching Tommy steady a horse and tried to mimic his body language. “I’m not moving from this spot until you put the gun down.” Oh, she was terrified. Not for herself; Tommy would never physically hurt her, Lupe knew that as fact. But for Ada, who she’d grown fond of like a little sister without a mother. What would it do to Ada to watch the man she loved bleed out on the Birmingham gravel? Regardless of how she felt about Freddie, and Lupe didn’t have the highest opinion of him due to his disdain for working girls, the younger girl loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. That was reason enough for Lupe to protect him, to protect Ada’s dreams for the future.</p><p>His aim never wavered for a second and neither did his icy glare. “He’s a filthy whoreson who doesn’t deserve it, Guadalupe. Get out of the way.”</p><p>“No. You can’t scare me, Thomas Shelby. I won’t let you even approach Freddie until you have a talk with Ada without yelling at her. Can you stop and think about what she wants for one fucking moment?” The idea that Ada might have wanted the father of her child alive likely never made it through his thick skull, Lupe grumpily thought to herself. Men. Always dense.</p><p>The intensity of his gaze moved from Freddie to her. “...If it matters so much to the two of you, we’ll talk. After we’re done talking, you’ll stand aside. To be quite frank though, I’m not certain she knows what she wants.” Tommy commanded. He had a kind of resonance to his voice that made it so when Tommy told one to do something, one had to fight their instincts to resist.</p><p>She decided to ignore that last jab yet between Tommy’s hostility and the din Ada was making screaming at him, a headache was starting to form. A different approach, perhaps. Lupe softened her voice and let her raised arms drop to her sides. “I will. Please, please just try. For her.”</p><p>Freddie wisely said nothing at all and just let the siblings carry on.</p><p>The safety of the gun clicked on.</p><hr/><p>Lupe had had enough bravery for one day, so while Tommy and Freddie hashed things out in the office, she made herself a nice cuppa with Polly. Ada was lying down upstairs, having worn herself out on the excitement of everything. “Best keep an eye on them, just in case they come to blows.” Polly said, moving from the table to sit on the sofa by the office door.</p><p>In response, she asked the question that had been weighing on her mind since they found out Ada was pregnant by Freddie. “Why exactly does Tommy hate Freddie so much? Besides the obvious. Weren’t they friends, once?”</p><p>The answering sigh from the older woman didn’t explain much. After a moment where she lit up a cigarette and took a few drags, Polly, almost reluctantly, began to speak. “He’s angry at Freddie. Has been ever since they came back from the war, and when they originally set out, the two of them were thick as thieves. I’d wager… Freddie and Tommy have always been far too alike. You know men, always wanting everything to go according to their will. And they both experienced something horrifying and completely out of their control. It drove them apart rather than bring them together.”</p><p>It made sense. The war convinced Tommy he needed to manipulate every possible factor to protect himself and the people he cared for. Freddie was the same, just on a different path. They were two parallel lines, on the same trajectory but destined to remain apart. Where Arthur and John gave Tommy resistance yet always bent in the end, Freddie would never bend nor allow someone else to control him. And so, they would never be friends again.</p><p>Lupe could see how Ada fell for him, too. He was possibly even more idealistic than Ada and came back from the war with hope for a better future. Too bad that hope turned him into an enemy of Britain itself. They had no future in Birmingham, that was for certain.</p><p>She knew the truth, knew that Tommy had gone from her sickbed to put a bullet in Campbell’s head. Everyone thought either the IRA or the Communists did it, except for the most senior members of the Peaky Blinders. They’d been lucky enough to get away with it but the other two factions in the city were under heavy watch. If Ada wanted the father of her child by her side, she would be smart and get them out of the city and somewhere where no one knew their names. If Freddie wanted to see his child grow up, he’d abandon his ideals for the reality of his situation. There would be no revolution in Britain; not after the blows the war dealt them.</p><p>When the office door opened and the two men stepped out, having managed to avoid coming to blows, it appeared Tommy had similar thoughts to her on his mind. “Polly, you’ll take them to the train station as soon as can be managed.” He pronounced solemnly. “They’ll not be stayin’ ‘ere.”</p><p>The older woman was confused yet pleased both men hadn’t killed each other. Yet. “Where… where are they going?”</p><p>“Glasgow. Freddie’s agreed to stop organizing. It’s too much of a risk to have them here and I don’t want Ada’s baby raised like this. They’ll get proper married and that will be that.” Tommy refused to look at Freddie when he said his name. She supposed they hadn’t come to a complete agreement, then. Well, such an outcome would be unrealistic. It was much better to simply go along with the plan those two men, so alike, had cooked up. “She asleep? Go wake her. They’re catching the late train to Glasgow as soon Ada’s packed.”</p><p>Polly nodded and hurried up the stairs.</p><p>The other man stood in the awkward silence, hands in his pockets. Guadalupe figured he’d be waiting a while. Lord only knows how much Ada had to pack. By the time she’d made it to the table, to offer him tea or coffee, Tommy had disappeared back into the office.</p><p>Lupe was the only one to see the three of them off. Tommy’s younger sister embraced her with happy tears in her large brown eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered in her ear. “Thank you. You’ll take care of Tommy, won’t you?”</p><p>This was a promise she knew she could readily make and fulfill. “I will.”</p><p>The man in question didn’t leave the office until they were well and gone. “Are you sure I did the right thing?” He said quietly after standing next to Lupe in silence for a few minutes.</p><p>“I’m sure.” Freddie’s politics would only bring them harm; that Tommy managed to get him to give them up without beating the shit out of him was nothing short of a miracle. And knowing what she knew about what was next for them all, it was much better for Ada to be out of sight and out of mind.</p><p>Hesitantly, he reached for her hand without looking at her. “Did she… did she look happy?”</p><p>“The happiest I’ve ever seen her.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Streets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in my head, we belong and i can't be without you</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we're now in season 2! this is a bit of a smutty one for y'all because it's gonna go downhill from here. historical references down below!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>January 1922</strong>
</p><hr/><p>The Eden Club was a beautiful thing, the likes of which she hadn’t seen since the last time she’d been in London. Such an upscale establishment had no place in a working town like Birmingham. There were glistening gold moldings and plenty of champagne, as well as some rather excellent jazz. Arthur was hardly impressed and said as much to her. The shambles of the Garrison couldn’t hold a candle.</p><p>Of course, why Lupe was there, she hadn’t the slightest clue. A holiday, Arthur had called it.</p><p>Everyone with half a brain and the slightest involvement in the London underworld knew the whole damn place was Darcy Sabini’s pride and joy. She knew why Tommy and his brothers were there, but her? It seemed to her that Tommy had planned for the night to rapidly devolve and from where she was sitting, she’d be nothing but dead weight.</p><p>They were all dressed to the nines; far too fine clothes to be dirtied with what was to occur that evening. It would be a shame. Lupe rather enjoyed this black gown from a French dress shop that had materialized in Tommy’s closet without a word from him.</p><p>She’d been enjoying the music and the liquor when she heard it; “Peaky scum!” The bottle on the table next to her exploded into glass shards. In that instant, she knew why she was there.  Oh fuck, Lupe thought, here they fucking go.</p><p>The fight broke out like the explosion that brought the Garrison down. Sabini’s cousin tried to grab her, but Lupe danced out of his reach as a fox did when it ran from the hound. With a sharp knee to his balls, he was bent over and groaning in pain. Before he could recover, her elbow met the back of his head. The man was out cold on the floor in the next second. More men rushed her now. She barely had time to think, much less breathe. Fuck. Blood filled her mouth at the punch that impacted her face and sent her sprawling. A shard of broken glass lay just out of her reach. With bloody fingers, Lupe grabbed it and slammed it into the side of the man who’d knocked her down. He jolted back with a howl. She’d take the momentary respite that came with it. The boys were doing just fine, thankfully. Arthur seemed in his element, John was earning his boxer’s ears, and Tommy moved as smooth as a snake. The sound of a shotgun going off stopped the fighting.</p><p>This was hardly her first brawl, nor did she figure it would be her last. Lupe liked the way the posh women in glittering dresses shuddered at the baring of her bloodied teeth.</p><p>Fuck. The room spun around her and her stomach turned as she clapped a bruised hand over her red mouth. Fuck. If she didn’t get out of this fucking club in the next few minutes, she’d puke all over the beautiful dancefloor. Thank Jesus himself, Tommy and his brothers started walking out that very moment. Had they said something? Lupe could see their smiling, drunken faces swimming around her blurry vision.</p><p>When she blinked, they were outside. “Who hit you?” Tommy stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm, tilting her chin up with his long fingers to peer into her eyes.</p><p>His words bounced around her head for a moment before Lupe could muster a response. “What?” How eloquent of her.</p><p>He repeated himself. “I said, who hit you?” When those fingertips brushed over her bruised cheek, she flinched away from his touch. Her coat. In all the mess she’d left her coat behind. Just as the shivers set in from the cold January wind, he draped his shiny new suit jacket over her shoulders.</p><p>The tenderness made Lupe smile, only for that smile to disappear because of his frown at the blood on her teeth. “Someone at the club. I don’t know who.” A shadow passed over Tommy’s chiseled face and for a moment, he looked like a demon from Hell. That moment passed and while his smirk returned, the light in his eyes didn’t.</p><p>The hand that had traced her bruised cheek cupped her jaw. “Pretty face like yours, nothing but a shame.” His eyes were luminous in the moonlight and fixed entirely on her.</p><p>Just as he seemed like he would abandon all decency and press a delicate kiss to Lupe’s cheek- “Tommy, you stop that! You’re in public, you little shit!” John whooped drunkenly, uncorking the bottle of whiskey from the club and proferring it first to Arthur. “No liquor for you.”</p><p>“John I’ll let that slide only ‘cause we’re on holiday.” John merely shrugged off the lighthearted jab and took a swig from the brown glass bottle himself before finally offering it to Tommy.</p><p>In the past year and a half, John and she had made up their differences as well, primarily due to her adoration of all his little children running underfoot. Underneath that rough exterior lay a clumsy yet sincere heart. He reminded her of Bao Luan, and the thought of the man she considered an older brother a few miles away in the East End, where she was unlikely to see him, made her heart hurt. “Lupe, I know you don’t like the brown stuff and I’m awful sorry your champagne is gone. I’ll buy you ten bottles!” Sometimes he reminded her of a puppy. A particularly large one. With teeth.</p><p>Her nausea was momentarily forgotten as she laughed out bright and gaily. “Can you even afford that?”</p><p>John swung a chummy arm around her shoulders. “‘Course I can. We’ve got… how many quid have we got, Tommy?” Tommy himself merely looked fondly amused at their antics.</p><p>“Fifty quid, John. Fifty quid in me pocket.” He pronounced in that crisp, measured way of his. By now, Lupe could read him like a book. The man was still so wrapped up in the feeling of his knuckles impacting someone’s face that he could hardly relax on his own damn holiday.</p><p>Arthur unconsciously echoed her thoughts. “Let’s go, we’re on fucking holiday!”</p><hr/><p>The four of them got two hotel rooms at Claridge’s, clear out of Sabini territory. Where John and Arthur split early, ostensibly to find themselves some pretty women and high-quality drugs, Tommy drew her aside in the hallway outside their room and pressed a key into her hand. “In case we get separated tonight.” He murmured into her ear, gently biting down on the soft flesh of her earlobe. The simple contact made her nerves sing.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Lupe had a good feeling as to where he would be taking her. She just wanted to hear him say it, wanted to hear the heat in his voice.</p><p>Tommy brushed a loose curl behind her ear before letting his hand come to rest around her neck. “Somewhere… fun.”</p><p>While he took a piss, Lupe quickly pulled on a set of Diana Slip lingerie, straight from Paris. The fishnet stockings and satin ribbon garter belt framed her curvy hips, while the lace panties with a row of tied ribbons on each side emphasized the pretty picture she made, even with the darkening bruise on her cheek that could be covered by powder. No brasserie, only her full breasts bare. A touch of red lipstick later and she felt like she understood why men had paid for her services. While all that had stopped since she’d joined the Peaky Blinders, Tommy certainly kept her busy and well-paid.</p><p>The two of them climbed into a taxi in silence, his hand spanning her thigh.</p><p>When they arrived at their destination, a rather upscale building with French architecture, Tommy tipped the cabbie well and off they went to the third floor. The woman who answered the door was beautiful, with wide green eyes framed with kohl, a deep crimson mouth, and an immaculately tooled leather collar locked around her neck. He slid her a few crisp bills, which she took, and proceeded to open the door for them.</p><p>The rooms were dark, lit only by electric lamps that lent a hazy, yellow glow to the world around them. People milled about, all dressed in black and some with masks tied around their faces. She could hear moans of both pleasure and pain emanate from each room; every thwack of flesh hitting flesh sent fresh heat down her spine.</p><p>The woman, who was scantily dressed in a metal bra and chastity belt, guided them to an empty room without a word.</p><p>The room was sparsely decorated, with only a St. Andrews cross, a leather-padded bench, and an assortment of implements laid out. She could see whips, floggers, riding crops, paddles… everything. Absolutely everything. Lupe wanted him to use all of them on her.</p><p>He saw the want in her eyes and issued his first command of the night. “Off with your clothes, my girl.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” She murmured, deep eyes never leaving his as his jacket fell from her shoulders, followed shortly by the pretty black gown. Lupe knew he liked that, knew he loved hearing that title fall from her plump lips. When he first inquired about this particular service of hers, that was what Tommy wanted from the beginning; to be her ‘sir’.</p><p>Those blue eyes she loved dearly darkened to a shade of cerulean with desire as he circled around her, admiring the curves of her body so neatly displayed by the black of her lingerie. “Is that for me, hmm?” Tommy hummed.</p><p>“All yours, sir.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear and he rewarded her by grabbing her waist with his muscled arms and pulling her close to him, letting their foreheads brush.</p><p>Tommy looked at her with awe and arousal. “Do you want this?”</p><p>“I do.” It was the truth. Lupe did. She wanted this more than anything. She’d fucking murder someone if she had to, in order for him to get his cock inside of her, to make her cry and scream and ache.</p><p>Without another word, he led her to the bench and bent her over it, arse up and head down. That was his favorite way to take his pleasure and she enjoyed the way he combined pain and pleasure.</p><p>His hands caressed her backside for a moment before withdrawing and leaving her there. Lupe could hear him rummaging through the assorted tools, before selecting one. Tommy let the soft leather falls of a flogger trail over her buttocks and up onto her back, sending shivers down her spine.</p><p> The first blow was a kiss, more than anything, hardly enough to bite, yet the surprise forced a gasp out of her. His low, answering chuckle was followed by another blow, then another. Tommy had a significant amount of practice at this with her, knew exactly how to angle the flogger and how much force to apply to coax sweet moans from her lips and wetness from her cunt.</p><p>When he paused for a moment to brush up against her, she could feel him, hard and pulsing, through his trousers. If Tommy would let her, she would’ve taken his cock into her mouth in an instance and used her round eyes to beg him to make her choke on it. He always gave in to what she wanted in the end, whether that was to choke her on his cock or choke her with his hands.</p><p>Ten blows later and Lupe was a squirming wreck, her underwear completely soaked through. He knew that, and only laughed darkly. “My girl,” he said, “if you keep moving like that, I’ll have to tie you down.” She loved that. She loved struggling against restraints, loved the complete loss of control and being forced to surrender to him. And him… well, she knew her submission turned him on like nothing else. “Ten more, then we’ll see if you’re still being my good girl.”</p><p>Lupe counted each one and grew wetter by the blow.</p><p>By the end, her body was practically begging him to lay his hands on her, to make her sing. The burn of her arse was a sweet one that only heightened her pleasure.</p><p>Tommy replaced the flogger with his lips as he kissed each red mark he’d left and bit in to make new ones.</p><p>His clever fingers brushed up against her soaked cunt and her body jolted as she let out a loud moan. After being flogged her nerves were always so sensitive. “Does my girl want something? Hmm?”</p><p>“Fuck, please-” She begged, all pride abandoned in favor of the waves of sensations overcoming her body as he teased her, continuing to skim over the lace of her panties without ever applying pressure or friction.</p><p>Tommy never let up, not for a second. “‘Please’ what?” The mocking tone of his voice was goodnatured and only reminded her further that she was at his mercy.</p><p>“Please sir, please touch me.” Her heart beat faster and faster.</p><p>“As you wish.”</p><p>He quickly shoved aside the expensive lace of her underwear and plunged two fingers into her aching cunt. The sheer relief of being filled made her gasp and arch her back.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>With every thrust, his fingers brushed against the sweet spot deep inside her cunt, teasing but never giving her the satisfaction she craved. Lupe could hear the obscene squelch her body made every time Tommy moved and it only turned her on more.</p><p>Facedown into the leather bench, she tried, tried so hard to get him to fuck her harder with his fingers, tilting her pelvis and pushing up back against him. Every desperate move she made resulted only in him withdrawing his fingers for a moment to caress her clit, making her whimper. “Please sir… I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I promise, just-” She babbled.</p><p>“My poor girl, so needy, so desperate. All she can think about is getting her cunt filled up and pounded hard, eh?” He plunged deep inside her again, this time seeking out her sweet spot and rubbing against it fast and hard. </p><p>“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Lupe moaned out. Every movement of his fingers brought her closer to orgasm; she could feel her cunt spasm and twitch around him.</p><p>Tommy fucked her harder and harder. “Are you going to cum? Is my girl gonna come without my permission?” A third finger joined the two and the sweet stretch nearly made her cum on the spot.</p><p>“Please sir, please let me cum.”</p><p>Just as she was on the edge, he withdrew his fingers and bit down on her arse, making her yelp. “No. Not yet.” The sounds of her panting breaths and his belt coming undone mingled in the stifling air. Tommy’s hand, still slick with her wetness, came to her hips to tilt her arse up. “Now, if this cunt is nice and tight around my cock, I’ll let you cum when I say so. And not a moment sooner.”</p><p>The anticipation sped up her heart rate. “Yes sir.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Not a moment later, the emptiness of her pussy was replaced by the slow stretch of his fat cock sliding into her. Tommy was huge; unless Lupe had been loosened up by an orgasm or two, it was always a struggle to fit him inside. Sometimes, he liked that, liked how her small cunt strained to accommodate him. “That’s it, my girl. Let me in.” Those torturous fingers massaged her clit as she cried out.</p><p>Lupe tried, tried to breathe and relax, but he was so goddamn big. She couldn’t even clench down around him, had no choice but to lay there and be his perfect fucktoy. Tommy liked that and she wouldn’t deny that it turned her on.</p><p>With every inch that slid into her, her moans became weaker and weaker, until they were simply soft cries that made him stiffer. Fuck. Her nerves were on fire. Every move he made, every twitch of his cock inside of her. She felt it all.</p><p>“Take my cock, that’s it. Take it.”</p><p>His fingers never stopped worrying her clit and if she had the room she would be spasming around him as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm. As it was, all she could do was lay there and do as he instructed; take it.</p><p>When Tommy finally bottomed out inside of her, the tip of his dick rubbing against her sweet spot, she lost it. “Fuck me, fuck me, I’m begging you-” Lupe babbled, her mind reduced only to the animalistic need for him to fuck her into the bench.</p><p>He paused his ministrations for a moment to gather her dark hair in his fist. “Since you asked so nicely, as you wish” Fuck. Tommy rammed into her cunt, sheathing himself with ferocious force, practically splitting her open.</p><p>The world disappeared around her; all she knew was his cock pounding her cunt.</p><p>The stretch was fucking amazing, he had the cock of a king, of a god, he made her feel so good, so good, please please please more-</p><p>He only chuckled, adjusted his stance, and drove into her harder. Tommy’s grunts of pleasure joined her loud moans.</p><p>Lupe’s orgasm, previously denied, came roaring back with a vengeance. Her body went practically boneless from the sensations; she was at his mercy. Now, the only sounds resonating in the room were the sounds of his moans and the sick squelch of his cock fucking her wet cunt.</p><p>“You wanna cum? You wanna cum?” He teased, returning to her clit with gentle touches that contrasted his fierce fucking.</p><p>All Lupe could muster was a weak “Please…” Close. She was so fucking close. Oh, God. If he didn’t let her cum, she would cry. Her orgasm was just out of reach, so close, so so so close, electric waves of pleasure sizzling inside of her. The knot in her belly grew tighter and tighter.</p><p>All she needed was him to let her let go.</p><p>“Cum.”</p><p>Oblivion. Sweet oblivion. Her body trembled and shook as her orgasm washed over her. There was no room for thoughts or words, just a sweet moan and her cunt, fluttering around him. He kept at it, kept fucking her, and the spasms went on and on and on. Her legs twitched and shuddered. She tensed, so tight she could practically hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.</p><p>He came too- she could feel his spend dripping out from where they were joined.</p><p>“Good girl.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I rewatched season 2 for this chapter lol.<br/>Chen Bao Luan was the real name of Brilliant Chang; in this story, Brilliant is associated with the Greens. Of course, Lupe would know him by his real name.<br/>Claridge's is a real hotel that was famous in London as a jazz and celebrity hotspot in the 1920s.<br/>https://evanevanstours.com/blog/7-historic-hotels-to-visit-in-london/<br/>In the post-WW1 period, BDSM and fetish were largely a European thing. Particularly, French and German. BDSM clubs flourished in Paris and Weimar Germany, only to be abandoned and/or wiped out by WW2.<br/>https://dominationandmastery.wordpress.com/tag/fetish-history/<br/>Diana Slip was a real, French fetish lingerie brand from the 1920s. Here's a picture of what Lupe is wearing; https://www.anothermag.com/fashion-beauty/gallery/8096/diana-slip/4</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Black Mambo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>he's been waiting to bring you down</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A short one today, but the plot thickens! Hope you all enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>With his cap pulled down to hide his face from the rain, Tommy didn’t see the gun until it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instinct took over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was evenly matched to him yet he wrestled the gun away from him and sent him sprawling with little effort. One, two, three, five men surrounded him and all he could think of was Sabini. This was Sabini’s doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hit after hit, arms like steel keeping him down, even as he writhed, struggled, fought like a demon out of Hell. It wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the third punch to the face, Tommy stopped feeling anything really. His struggles grew weak, more protests than anything. Fuck, he tried. He tried to take a swing, tried to break free, tried to do something. More and more men piled on him until all he could do was take it, take the beating, and try to stay alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone pulled his head back by his hair to take another shot at him; the world swam and the rain shimmered in the air like diamonds. Before Tommy even had time to breathe, he was pushed to the cobblestone like a ragdoll, before every single man decided it would be a good time to use him as a football. The iron tang of blood filled his mouth after one of Sabini’s thugs kicked him good in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the man himself came, he was in far too much shock to pay attention to a word Sabini said. “...where’s that chink bitch of yours…” Fuck. Guadalupe. She was in danger. No. Nonononono.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of the light draining from her amber eyes was enough to spur another bout of weak struggle. “Don’t you fucking dare touch her.” He groaned. “Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard.” Tommy could hardly see, what with one eye swelling rapidly and blood and plasma running down his face his thick streams, but for a moment he could swear he saw her standing in front of him. Her figure disappeared the next instant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabini grabbed his face and dug his nails in. “Ah, that bloody whore mean something to you? Far too bad my boys are gonna have a little fun with her. We’ll tell her before we slit her throat that you called for her.” A warm gob of spittle hit Tommy’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Sabini.” He managed to get out just as one of the men wound up to punch him in the stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That last hit drove the breath from his lungs. “Don’t say my name. Jesus. Franco, take my name out of his mouth.” When Franco approached with a razor blade, glinting the light of a Birmingham forge, he fell into a deep blackness that was as thick as tar. No pain, no trouble. Only sleep.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Tommy managed to open a single eye. The other was covered by a thick bandage accompanied by a thick ointment. When his hands dropped from his face and back to the bed, he could feel the cuts and bruises on them. Sabini’s men must have stomped on his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re awake.” An accented yet familiar voice resonated through the room, accompanied only by the calls of sparrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just turning his head hurt. Every breath revealed new pains in his ribcage and Tommy could still taste the blood in his mouth. The blurry vision of his good eye revealed a Chinese man, dressed impeccably, with an ornately carved cane in his hand. Brilliant Chang. The dope king himself. “Chang.” One word was all he felt like he could muster through the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did he want? He’d had dealings with Chang before and the man did nothing for free. Nothing. “Thomas Shelby. You’re in a bad state. Almost didn’t think you were going to make it.” The sound of his steps and his cane echoed as he walked closer. “You’ve been foolish. You’re lucky I’ve been keeping tabs on you since your return to London.” Fucking prick. Chang was always far more smug and civilized than he had any right to be and liked rubbing it in people’s faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s voice sounded like rough gravel. “What can I do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other man simply smiled. “There’s a girl you’ve taken in. Xiujia. You might know her as Guadalupe.” Guadalupe. Fuck. He’d forgotten about her. Was she alright? Was she alive?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart constricted in his chest. “...” No. She had to be alive. And fine. Lupe was a fighter, a survivor. If anyone could survive Sabini, it would be her. Tommy’s ever-present self-loathing grew at the thought of another mark, caused by him, on her perfect skin. Fuck. He didn’t deserve her. She didn’t deserve this life with him. He’d grown cocky when he brought her to Eden that night. Really, she was there to represent their alliance with the Greens, not as someone who was fair game to take a shot at. Tommy thought he would have been able to protect her, that there was no way Sabini would go after a woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take good care of her, Shelby. Next time, I may not be there to save her. Or you, for that matter.” Chang’s parting words played over and over in his mind. Did they know each other? Had he been a former client of hers? Tommy knew she’d come from London, from the same neighborhoods Tommy himself had dealings with Chang. Fucking hell, the man supplied him the opium he’d stopped smoking since she’d come to live with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something so heartbreaking in her eyes that day they fought. Tommy didn’t care enough for his own wellbeing to stop, but for her, he would do it. Oh, but the temptation was still there. Especially now, especially knowing how easy it would be to get his hands on laudanum. Fuck. He wanted nothing more than sweet oblivion. To forget about her, forget about Chang and Sabini. To let the world around him melt into nothingness. Tommy knew he was nothing but an addict; he craved the bliss more than anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he shifted to try and see if there were any nurses nearby, his ribs protested. Definitely a few broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabini. If he didn’t get out now, he would definitely be dead. All of them would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determination solidified in his mind. With straining effort, Tommy swung his feet off the bed and stood up.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now that Campbell is dead, we're going to be experiencing some rather large canon deviations. Instead, I've decided to set up Brilliant Chang in the role of instigator and flesh out his character a bit more. Let me know in the comments if y'all like this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Work Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>no grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: drug addiction<br/>thank you to the people i know who have struggled with addiction for contributing their experiences to make this a more realistic portrayal of the damage of addiction.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy had been missing for a week and a half before he turned up at Watery Lane with yellowing bruises, a black eye, and scabbed over cuts. For that week and a half, she’d done nothing but worry and wear holes in the carpet with her pacings. Sabini’s men tried accosting her on Peaky Blinders’ territory; Lupe had been lucky enough to be near the stables when it happened. When she shouted, Charlie came running with a pistol. The thugs were clearly not expecting resistance and between the two of them, they made them run.</p><p>It was Tommy who never left her mind. She asked if there was any news of him so often that Polly seemed like to smack her. John had merely laughed, perhaps out of experience with his own worrying woman. “He’ll turn up, Lupe. He always does.”</p><p>The last time she’d seen him was when he dropped her off at Watery Lane after their holiday. Tommy had kissed her cheek tenderly with a soft look in his blue eyes that made her melt.</p><p>Without him, they would all be lost. God only knows how Arthur would be without his little brother to steer him on the right course. He spent all his time in the boxing club. If Arthur wasn’t there, he was getting vicious drunk around Small Heath and challenging anyone who dared to brawl with him. Between Polly and her, they’d managed to keep him out of any serious scrapes.</p><p>Ada and Freddie were happy in Glasgow and well out of reach of any of this expansion business. For that, she was thankful. It was far too dangerous to send letters now, but last Lupe had heard of them, Karl was over a year old and Freddie picked up a job as an automotive mechanic.</p><p>They knew Tommy had been in the hospital, that much was clear from the bill they received. Where he went after… Polly had an idea but she refused to tell Lupe a thing.</p><p>When he came back, he came back drunk and high, stinking of bootleg liquor.</p><p>She hated it when he was like this, when he set out to destroy himself and everyone around him. No one was ever brave enough to tell him no. Lupe saw it firsthand; the way he hid his habit like it was a shame yet did everything he could to keep himself stocked up. The addiction never went away fully. He just refrained from the opium around her because Tommy knew she didn’t like it and knew she didn’t like the asshole he was when he was high. An asshole who didn’t care about anyone or anything. An asshole who lashed out at her every time she tried to help him.</p><p>Of course, it’s not like she could judge. Cocaine was sometimes the only way she could get out of bed in the morning. When Tommy was drunk and furious or high and terrified at the world around him, cocaine kept a smile on her face. When Lupe didn’t see hide nor hair of him for days on end and she was convinced he’d finally been murdered only for him to return and ignore her, cocaine kept her going. The good, almost loving moments that made it all worth it were few and far between.</p><p>They were fucked up. Really fucked up. It was only a matter of time before they imploded.</p><p>For the week and a half Tommy disappeared, Polly could hardly get her to touch any food. Everything made her nauseous and her bruises ached something fierce. Headaches were a constant companion since she’d had her head slammed into the floor.</p><p>Something was wrong with Polly too. Ever since Lupe came to live with them and Polly had another young woman to take care of, the older woman had started drinking more, weeping more. Occasionally she’d find Polly well on her way to drunkenness by the fireplace, clutching a worn picture of two infants in her hand.</p><p>When he saw her, relief fell upon his shoulders like a cloak. “You’re alright,” he’d said in that deep voice of his, clutching her head to his chest. “You’re alright.”</p><p>“Tommy-” Lupe tried to ask.</p><p>He simply kept her there, in that tight embrace, no doubt hurting himself with how close he held her.</p><p>Lupe slowly peeled his coat off after he finally deigned to let go. Whatever had happened to Tommy had clearly left him traumatized. She guided him up the stairs to their room hand-in-hand and he followed her like a lamb followed a shepherd. “Rest, love,” Lupe whispered to him in the dark.</p><p>It wasn’t until she joined him did he finally relax.</p><p>It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around her did she finally breathe in after a week and a half.</p><p>If he had died… she would have died with him, Lupe thought. She would have died with him.</p><p>Maybe Tommy could sense her thoughts because as soon as she thought that, he pulled her closer and guided her head to lay on his bare chest. For hours they lay there, breathing each other in and listening to their hearts beat in time. Bliss. Complete bliss.</p><p>Lupe could have spent an eternity there in his arms. His presence was like the finest cocaine; electrifying.</p><p>When she finally spoke after hours had passed, she told him what he already knew. “I love you.”</p><p>“I know.” His hand came up to stroke through her long hair, a small noise of pain emanating from his throat when she shifted and accidentally nudged his ribs.</p><p>He did his best to suppress the flinch but he couldn’t fool her. “Tommy, what happened-”</p><p>“Don’t wanna talk about it. Just let me lay here, eh?” Icy coldness seeped into his words at her question and Tommy stiffened up under her touch.</p><p>That was another thing Lupe hated now. He was far more open with her when they had been strangers and he was paying for her time. As soon as they became more than that, as soon as she offered herself up to him freely, he closed up tight and wouldn’t let a single soul in. “Alright.” She acquiesced. It was easier to give in than it was to fight him, to demand an end to the secrecy and the hiding.</p><p>Lupe tried to console herself. He’s doing this for all of us, she thought. Even if he never loves me, to be in his presence will have been worth it.</p><p>A slow kiss was pressed to her forehead in the next instant as if to quell the thoughts. “We’ll have time for that later. Just… let me rest. With you.”</p><p>Fuck. She loved him. She loved him so fucking much. She loved him like she needed to air. These were her favorite moments, the ones that made the arguments and the silences between them worth it. For him, Lupe might have razed the world to the ground and rebuilt it to his liking. For him, she would fucking tear God limb from limb to keep his heart beating. Who needed church when she could worship at his feet? She loved him even when he was high, even when he was cruel and manipulative and controlling.</p><p>Tommy kissed her once, then again and again. “Guadalupe,” he said. “Guadalupe.” Through the dark night, they lay there and she watched the sun rise on his pale blue eyes. Lupe got the sense he was watching her too, watching the light catch the red in her black hair. Together they lay there until the world grew too loud to ignore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yeah... it's going downhill from here guys sorry. angst with a happy ending, i promise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Shades Of Cool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>but i can't fix him, can't make him better</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here it goes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lupe had the feeling she ought to be furious at Tommy. For his neverending thirst for more. For risking her life over and over again for his little games. But tonight was the grand re-opening of the Garrison, and she saw the hint of a true smile on his face. How could she be cross with him tonight?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had informed them the Garrison’s bombing was Irish work but what the consequences of that would be, she had no idea. They couldn’t afford to make enemies right now, not with Sabini breathing down their necks and him just barely recovered from the man’s savage beating. How he survived at all, Tommy wouldn’t say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he’d questioned her about Bao Luan. Or, as he knew him, Brilliant Chang. Bao Luan supplied the Greens in London regularly with opium and cocaine. To her, he’d always been kind and friendly, with a joking manner that made all the birds comfortable around him. When a client tried to choke her to unconsciousness for displeasing him, Bao Luan sent his enforcers after him. The man never returned and Lupe heard he left the city. She and he both missed China and when he visited to secure more supply, he always brought her little things to remember her birthplace by. Those knickknacks lay in her trunk in Tommy’s room, along with the rosary her father gave her when she was born. He was the older brother she always longed for. Sometimes, Bao Luan talked about finding a way out of the drug business and into running a laundry and promised to take her with him. Lupe always refused unless she could bring Xiaoyu. Xiaoyu. She hadn’t seen her in over a year. Was she alright? Still alive? The letters she sent were returned unopened and she’d never seen her walking the streets of Birmingham since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A commotion brought her attention back to the present, back to the raging party going on around her and the glass of whiskey she was nursing. Tommy’s older brother seemed determined to party harder than all of them combined. She knew a dope high when she saw one; Arthur was fucking manic, spinning around like a little child and sloshing liquor every which way. Lupe had never seen the Garrison this crowded before, practically spilling over with Blinders and townspeople on their payroll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched them whisper to each other and wondered how the men could hear themselves over the din of the party, before Tommy slipped off, clutching a letter in one hand and a glass in the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one noticed her disappear from the bar, which stung more than she’d like to admit. Weaving through the crowd was easy; everyone was too wasted to notice a gentle nudge here and there. Tommy ducked behind a set of velvet curtains and set his glass down on the wood table, his stony face illuminated only by the fireplace. The man seemed lost in thought, far too lost to notice her peaking over the curtain with curious eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The letter was leaned delicately against the glass ashtray. In the weak light, she could barely make out the words on the envelope; Tommy’s name and address, no return address, just the name ‘Grace Burgess’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A vision of the blonde woman stood in front of her for a moment, looking for all the world like an angel from heaven, before disappearing as Tommy moved to open the letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe wished that Sabini had managed to do him in. No, she didn’t mean that. But she sure felt like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She retreated without a sound. There was hardly a point in confronting him, was there? It didn’t matter if he ended up choosing Grace. Tommy would never choose her. Lupe didn’t care that he hired Lizzie Stark as a secretary. Naively, she thought that if given time, if given a chance, he might come to love her too. Dreams like those were for children, and Lupe hadn’t been a child for quite some time. With hot tears in her eyes, she slipped out of the party before anyone noticed, and to be honest they probably wouldn’t, and stepped out into the cold, snowy night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, she just wanted to be happy. And loved. Lupe was lonely, so fucking lonely all the time, even when Tommy was right there. A part of him was always out of reach and now she knew where it was. With the woman who betrayed him. With the woman who deserved him more than she did. A woman with no record, no history, no scars. How could he ever come to love her when Grace was right there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how much he cared for the both of them, he would never care as much as he did for his drugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since he’d been back, the lingering smell of opium smoke filled the room constantly. No doubt he was lighting up when she wasn’t there. How courteous of him. And other than that first night since he came back, Tommy hardly touched her and never held her. Lupe felt his absence like she might feel the absence of a missing limb. Or the absence of her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe wanted to be angry, but what was the point? It wouldn’t bring him back to her and at this point, she wasn’t even sure what she wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did she want?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>To not be alone anymore. The loneliness would kill her faster than the cocaine would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Shelby townhouse was a short walk from the Garrison and Lupe let herself in with the key Polly had made her, only to find the woman herself at the pinewood dining table with the oil lamps turned down low, tears tracking silently down her face as she stared at a worn picture. The picture of the babes, the one Lupe had seen every now and then when Polly was particularly drunk and quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cautiously, she sat down, giving the older woman ample time to tell her to fuck off. All Polly did was stare, and cry, and nurse a cigarette. Lupe decided to take that as consent for her to sit and sit she did, watching Polly with enormous pity in her heart. The other woman had never spoken about the children in the photo, but Lupe could imagine exactly who they were. Likely her children, now lost from her. Polly’s facial expression could be found on some of the older prostitutes, reminiscing about their children who either died or were taken from them. Women like them, like Polly, would never have a happy ending with children, a husband, and a house. They were destined for darker things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The photograph was pushed over to her. In the blurry darkness, she could barely make out their faces. “My babies,” Polly said, her voice filled with choked sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re beautiful.” It was true. They were. Lupe gazed at their tiny, chubby faces and felt a deep longing inside of her. She’d cared for Xiaoyu nearly their entire lives but that wasn’t quite the same; what would it be like to care for, to love, to cherish another little being unconditionally? And to have that love returned?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polly traced the face of the baby girl with her finger. “My girl is dead. Tommy knows where my boy is but he won’t tell me. My girl is dead, Lupe. I’ll never see her again. They buried her in Australia; I can’t even decorate her gravestone with the flowers she loved.” Her tears came anew and Lupe could feel her own tears trickle down her face for Polly’s loss, for her immense sadness that seemed too much for her shoulders to bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands reached out to clasp Polly’s, which were now clutching the photograph like it was the only thing keeping her together. “I know she’s waiting for you, Polly. In Heaven. When you go, she’ll be waiting for you and she’ll be so happy to see her mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anna was her name. Anna Gray. The sweetest babe who ever lived. Never gave me any trouble at all.” Polly looked at Lupe with her sorrowful dark eyes. “She was only two years younger than you.” Her voice was mournful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother had been a cruel woman, far more interested in men, money, and drugs than she was in the child who needed her. A woman who knew nothing but whoring and put her little girl on a boat, never to come home, to do the same. Lupe thought she might’ve given up everything to have a mother who loved her as much as Polly clearly loved her daughter. “You’re going to be alright. You’ve got us.” She wasn’t going to be alright. How did one fill the hole in their heart where their child once was?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael, my poor Michael… Tommy says I have to wait, that he has to come find me when he’s eighteen. But what if he won’t? What if he doesn’t want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She got up to drape an arm around Polly’s shoulders. “Is he happy? Wherever he is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s all worth it. As long as he’s well-fed and treated right, everything will have been worth it.” Lupe soothed. She couldn’t imagine exactly how Polly was feeling, but she could understand what it felt like to be separated irrevocably from someone so integral to one’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother was cruel and never loved her as she should. But, Lupe thought, she should be more charitable. All she’d ever known was whoring and that was all she could pass down to her. Lupe would never see her again, would never see Shanghai again because of her mother, but that was what she thought was best for Lupe; to make a new life in a wealthier country. Every day the pain of being separated forever broke her heart a little further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you? What are you doing here when there’s a party going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was far easier to put Grace and Tommy out of her mind when she had Polly’s troubles to focus on. “Tommy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That bastard. What’d he do now?” Polly asked, nearly back to her old self except for the tear tracks through her kohl and powder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupe hesitated for a moment before answering. “Grace. They write each other.” At her words, the older woman’s face hardened, the naked vulnerability and loss from before gone. Polly’s cigarette was relit so she could take another drag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smoke from her pack was proffered to Lupe and she took it with steady fingers. “He doesn’t deserve you.” In the dim light of the lamps, Polly looked like a furious queen from a long-ago legend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a joke if she’d ever heard one. Tommy was like the stars; just close enough to follow but too far away to grasp. Men like him were giants, titans, larger than life, and twice as bold. Women like her were footnotes in their histories, at best. “Maybe.” Lupe knew doubt must have been written plainly across her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be alright, girl.” Yes. They would be. A new determination filled her soul; she would learn to live without him and let him go. Just as Lupe was about to ask Polly to move her to her own room in the house, the hot burn of acid filled her mouth. She hurried from the room as quick as she could, only to puke the entire contents of her stomach out onto the doorstep. “Guadalupe, what’s wrong?” Polly called. Fuck. She felt awful. Like something had chewed her up and spit her out. Did she have too much to drink? Had the food gone bad? A pale hand came up to feel her forehead; unusually warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… I’ve been sick recently and weak.” The other woman looked her up and down with a strange light in her eye before drawing Lupe into a warm, comforting hug. Cuifen had never been one for maternal kindness, kindness that Polly had shown her in spades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she ushered her back inside and sat her down on the sofa with a mug of tea, Polly brushed some of Lupe’s hair away from her face with surprising tenderness. “We’ll get you to a doctor, love. One in London, yeah? No need to worry the boys.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tokyo is in my opinion, not cocaine. Cocaine was already a known quantity to the West by the 1920s. Someone online pointed out it's far more likely that Tokyo is methamphetamine, synthetically manufactured by Japanese scientists. Also, pretty sure we saw someone snorting cocaine earlier in the show but I could be wrong.<br/>https://www.reddit.com/r/PeakyBlinders/comments/8qp37i/tokyo/</p><p>Please leave a comment and let me know what you think is wrong with Lupe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>when you decide it's your time to arrive, i've loved you for all of my life</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>surprise! another update! this is another short one, but i think this moment needed it's own chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Polly’s son turned up the next morning, a handsome lad with her dark eyes and his own honey blonde hair. Lupe left them to their reunion; no doubt Polly would be easing him into the family business and the company they kept.</p><p>Instead, she took a train to Rugby, then to London on her own. It’s not like Tommy would miss her; she only saw him in smatterings here and there with his brothers, far too busy to see her. Lupe couldn’t find it in herself to be bitter about it. With the expansion, he was a busy man. That was simply it.</p><p>Unfortunately, there was no doctor in London where she could go. Tommy had all of London north of the Thames under his control, between him, Solomons, and the Limehouse Chinatown gangs. South of the Thames was Sabini territory and they would be sure to spot a Chinawoman looking for a doctor. Polly had kin with the Smith family, who had settled in London and lived among the Englishmen there. With an address for one Charity Smith and map in hand, Lupe set off with a razor blade in her handbag, just in case.</p><p>It wasn’t safe to be a Shelby in London right now and she thanked God once more that Ada, Freddie, and little Karl were well out of the way of this bloody business.</p><p>No one bothered her on the train rides; there was nothing but peace for those three hours. It was a welcome change of pace from Arthur’s fits and John’s children running around causing havoc. If any of the Shelbys had sense, it would be Arthur going to the doctor, not her. Especially after what he did to that poor boy. Lupe was never on great terms with him before, but now she avoided him when she could. What was she to do? The boy was just that. A boy. And murdered in a fury with no cause, no recourse.</p><p>They called it shellshock. A client, in the middle of a flashback, aimed a gun at one of her sisters a couple of years before, believing her to be an enemy soldier.</p><p>Tommy… well. He hadn’t even noticed when Polly made up half her bedroom for her. She’d cried in her arms and the older woman looked at her with faraway eyes. With gentle hands, Polly had braided Lupe’s dark hair into a single plait.</p><p>It was overcast and chilly in London, as usual, and she pulled her one good winter coat around her tighter to block out the cold.</p><p>After wandering the streets for another two hours, Lupe found herself in front of the right house. Charity was a beautiful elderly woman with old, kind eyes and strong hands. “Sit down, dear. Have some tea. What’s wrong?”</p><hr/><p>A baby. Her baby.</p><p>She sat in silence for a while, still processing the news.</p><p>Children were never in the cards for women like her.</p><p>Charity leaned forward and took her hand after washing her own. “You’re about a month gone. You’ve got another two to decide what you’re going to do.” The older woman hadn’t judged her or made her feel uncomfortable at all. She only offered genuine care for her wellbeing. How… novel. Lupe thought she might stay forever, drinking tea and basking in the warmth of her presence.</p><p>“And these headaches? The nausea?” The words spilled off her tongue.</p><p>The old woman clucked affectionately. “You need to rest dearie, and eat well. Looks like you’ve been through a few scrapes, haven’t you? No more of that.” No. Her head still ached even now, weeks later after it had been slammed into the ground. No more of that. No more drugs either. “And… the father?”</p><p>Tommy. How would he react? What would he say? He was too honorable to throw her out of the house, Lupe knew that much. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tommy. This couldn’t have come at a worse time for him. The expansion, the violence that was sure to follow. How he fell deeper and deeper into alcohol and opium. A happy ending for the three of them was nothing but a fairytale. Tommy was a hard man with blood on his hands. What place did she have in his life? What place would this baby have?</p><p>Did she want this? Did she want this baby now? </p><p>Yes.</p><p>Yes, she did.</p><p>A child was all she’d ever wanted in her whole life but swore she could never have. Someone to love, protect, care for, someone who wouldn’t leave her and who she wouldn’t leave. A family of her own. Lupe would be nothing like her mother and father. Nothing.</p><p>Determination coalesced in her mind. Between Polly and her, they’d find a way if Tommy didn’t want them. They would find a way. If Tommy didn’t want them, she’d be mother and father both to this baby.</p><p>Her hands caressed her stomach. “Hello, little one. I’ve been waiting for you.” Lupe thought she’d loved this child her whole life. How could she not? Did her mother ever feel like this? For the first time, in a long time, Lupe longed for her family, longed for the grandmother she had distant memories of and the mother who’d abandoned her, even if it was for a better life. Years had passed with Lupe brushing away the thoughts of them; they were her past. But now, everything was changed. She had a future.</p><p>Fuck Tommy. Fuck Sabini. For this child, she would go to the ends of the earth to protect them. Against anyone who would harm them. Lupe could see them in her mind’s eye; laughing, smiling, holding her hand, and calling her ‘mama’. Mama. She was going to be someone’s mama. Fuck. Tears came to her eyes and Lupe wiped them away with trembling hands. Charity seemed to instinctively understand she needed space and slipped away quietly. “Everything’s going to be fine, my little love. Everything’s going to be just fine.” Lupe murmured in part to the child inside of her and in part to herself.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. War of Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i can't help but love you, even when i try not to</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, I'm back! Not gonna lie this chapter was a little rough but I think it turned out ok. I've been more than a bit obsessed with Shadow &amp; Bone on Netflix, which I highly recommend. Kaz Brekker is like teenage Tommy Shelby. Please let me know if you caught all the Six of Crows references and what you think in the comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Polly sighed, an unlit cigarette still resting in her hand. “My nephews,” She said with a note of affection in her voice. “They’re like rabbits, I swear.” The now lit cigarette went to her lips and Lupe tracked the plumes of smoke for a moment.</p><p>Weakness was not allowed, especially now that she had someone to protect, and she hated how hesitant her voice sounded. “You’re not… upset?” Unbidden, her hands picked at the loose threads of her sleeves</p><p>“No. I’m not. I’m worried, about you and the baby.” Polly said bluntly.</p><p>Lupe swore pigs must be flying, for Polly to express such concern for her. For anyone who wasn’t her kin.</p><p>Instinctively, her hand twitched towards the pack of smokes on the table. No. It wasn’t good for the baby. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“The plans Tommy is making… I don’t see it ending well for anyone. He’s allied with Brilliant Chang and Alfie Solomons now, did you know that?” Fuck. Fucking Tommy Shelby. Lupe held affection for Bao Luan; she, however, held no illusions about what he was capable of. Everyone knew about Alfie Solomons. Combined with Tommy’s brilliant, dark mind? London would be a battleground. Nothing would ever be enough for Tommy. He wouldn’t stop until he held all of Britain in his grasp. One day, she thought, even that wouldn’t be enough.</p><p>Her hands pressed tightly to her stomach. “Bao Luan? And Alfie? No, I didn’t.” Lupe knew the truth; he would never give up his empire for her or the baby. Honestly… she would never ask that of him. To ask Tommy to give up his empire, his power, was to ask Tommy to give up everything that kept him running, everything that kept him alive. In a way, Lupe pitied him. He knew no other existence than this one, this one that would drain his soul from him and corrupt his good heart.</p><p>Polly paused her chainsmoking to look at her with a peculiar glint in her dark eyes. “You know Chang?”</p><p>She nodded. “I do. From all the years I lived in London.” Flashes of memory came to her; the fine tea from Shanghai he snuck into one of his opium shipments, the way he called her ‘little sister’ and meant it. She also remembered the way he watched addicts with calculating eyes, already planning how to drain their wallets and their lives. How he crippled competitors with ruthless precision. Bao Luan was the worse kind of man; his facade of kindness only for those he liked, but in the end, he didn’t truly like anyone all that much. Lives were disposable to him. Lupe had made her peace with it long ago. Women in her position would be stupid to refuse whatever kindness came their way.</p><p>The older woman understood her thoughts from the mournful look on her face. “Then you’ll know what he’s capable of. What Tommy and he are capable of together.” Tommy… if he kept on this path, one day he’d be like that too.</p><p>“What’s the plan?”</p><p>Polly got up to pour herself a drink even though it was still morning. “He won’t tell me the extent of it but I know him well enough. They’re going to cripple Sabini and leave him crawling then cut off his head. Tommy is a good man; this will make him truly a monster.” Monsters always looked human. Lupe knew his intentions when he started on this path. What the war had done to him, no force on Earth or in Heaven could undo. Tommy thought he was protecting everyone he loved with everything he had. But… one day, he wouldn’t be able to love anyone. Every life he destroyed would destroy him in turn.</p><p>Determination solidified in her mind. “I’m not raising the baby like this. Or in this. War is no place for a child.” Under no circumstances would she let the tiny soul she’d been entrusted with growing up in such darkness, such monstrosity. Over Lupe’s dead body. She would give them a better life, she thought. A better life than she was given. A better mother than she was born to.</p><p>“If I could do it all over again, girl, neither would I.” Her words sent a jolt down her spine. Polly’s babies. Those were eighteen years with them she would never get back. Lupe knew that would be her future if she stayed; someone, somehow, would hurt them because they thought it would hurt Tommy. No matter how foolish that gamble would be, Lupe couldn’t risk it.</p><p>“Will you help me?”</p><p>Polly shook her head regretfully. “I can’t until the war is done with. You’re safer here in Small Heath than anywhere else in Britain until Sabini is dead and gone.” Desperation bled through her. She wanted to run away as far as possible. She wanted to disappear. Polly was right. There was no place in this country she could go without risking her life and her baby’s life. Even trying to go to America or back to Shanghai would put her at risk. Sabini was fucking merciless and making Tommy in his image. Please God, she prayed, please let me find peace.</p><p>“Don’t tell anyone. Please.” She begged. If anyone found out... </p><p>Polly understood instantly. “Worry not, girl. I won’t. But you’ll have to keep quiet too. Don’t leave the house unless you’re going with someone. I don’t particularly care what you do, just stay put.” No. That was unacceptable. Lupe was about to open her mouth and argue back when she saw the steely expression on the older woman’s face. As reluctant as she was to allow herself to be trapped in this house for the next few months, unable to do a thing, Polly had a point. Leaving put her at risk and that risk was not one she could take, no matter how anxious she would become. Lupe was stuck here, stuck with these people, stuck with a man in the process of becoming a monster. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Panic swirled through her body and she could feel it choking her. Weight, as heavy as lead, settled on her chest. Breathe, Lupe told herself. Breathe. She was okay. She was okay. Getting out of her chair and stumbling to the door for fresh air was nearly impossible; Lupe felt as though chains were keeping her in place. Strong hands pulled her up off the floor and steadied her. “You’re alright, Guadalupe. You’re going to be alright.” Polly said, staring straight into the face of her panic.</p><p>Fuck. Lupe tried, tried to take deep breaths and calm down. The lead weight was still there, holding her down. </p><p>Her voice trembled as she spoke.“I- I’m scared.”</p><p>“I’ll be there for you, I promise. You won’t be alone.”</p><hr/><p>She turned over on his bed to see Tommy walk into his room, crimson blood smeared on his collar and splattered on his cheek. The thick, iron scent made her ill. “Guadalupe.” They hadn’t seen each other since the party, and Lupe was feeling less than charitable.</p><p>“Mr. Shelby.” The ice in her voice could not have been more obvious.</p><p>He shed his coat with a deep sigh, exposing his broad shoulders clad in a fine, white shirt and dark waistcoat. “...I’m sorry.”</p><p>“What for?” He didn’t owe her anything, Lupe thought. No matter how much she wished, he didn’t owe her love, companionship, or communication. She hated herself for wanting him still, for how her heartbeat sped up faster when he walked into the bedroom. </p><p>Tommy sat down on the bed to look at her tenderly; she could feel her ice and resistance melting with every second she looked into his eyes. “You deserve better than this.” His hand hovered above her cheek, as if to stroke it, before retracting as if she’d burned him. Lupe liked the thought of that, liked that maybe he was afraid of her too.</p><p>He looked like an ordinary man, albeit a handsome one, when he was like this. “Maybe.” She murmured, still hypnotized by his statuesque face, by the twitch of his throat as he swallowed nervously. Tommy Shelby, nervous? How… odd.</p><p>“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, turning his face away to stare at the wall behind her. “I need to tell you something.”</p><p>Her silence rang out loudly in the hollow emptiness of the room. “...”</p><p>After a moment of stillness, as if he finally gathered up the courage, Tommy turned his face towards her again and settled his fingers next to hers. “I care-” No. Lupe sat up suddenly, clutching his hand and digging her fingernails in, in a way sure to hurt. He was not going to do this to her, not going to make her feel this way. Not right now. Not after what she knew he was doing with Grace.</p><p>“No. Don’t.” She commanded, voice harsh enough to break glass. Tommy flinched involuntarily at the anger in her body, in the lines of her faces, in the deep pools of her eyes. Lupe tried again, this time softer. “Now isn’t a good time, Tommy. You don’t owe me anything.” He yanked his hand away from her grasp and paced the room for a few minutes.</p><p>When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous. “Alright.”</p><p>Her body, suddenly exhausted, sagged back down to the mattress. “Just… stay with me? Please? Stay here. Don’t go back out there.” Lupe begged, despising herself for being so fucking weak for him all the damn time. Again and again. He knew exactly what to say to her to string her along, to keep her desperate for him, while he chased after the woman he truly wanted. The worst part? It worked. It worked over and over again. Tommy was far too smart not to understand what he did to her, how he made her feel. All she ever wanted was for him to stay.</p><p>“I will,” He promised. They both knew it was a lie. His hands were dirty, dried blood under his blunt fingernails. “Polly tells me you’re ill.” Was there genuine concern in his voice, or was she just imagining it?</p><p>“Don’t worry about me.” Lupe dismissed him quickly. No point in dreaming that he did care.</p><p>A featherlight kiss was pressed to her brow and despite her defenses, the warmth of his mouth against her skin felt like coming home. Lupe allowed herself to dream, allowed herself to wish for another day like the day they went to the countryside, their babe in her arms-</p><p>He pulled away after a moment, his pupils blown out. “I worry about you. I can’t- I can’t get you out of my head.” Tommy spoke like someone was dragging a confession out of his chest like he couldn’t stop the words pouring out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried.</p><p>The king of Birmingham, on his knees by her side. For the first time, Lupe truly felt that they were equals. The power she wielded at that moment made her giddy. “I won’t have you like this, Tommy Shelby. I won’t. Maybe after the war is done. Maybe when there’s enough blood on your hands to smother out the voices in your head.” There were too many obstacles between them. Too many bodies to step over. Too many betrayals she couldn’t forgive. For now. And the baby… The baby deserved better than either he or she could give them. “But we can never be as we were.”</p><p>It pained Lupe to see the naked, beautiful vulnerability written on his face disappear in an instant. Tommy closed up like a flower did in the first winter chill, something beautiful made dead.</p><p>“Alright.” His voice was cold; her heart was colder without him, without his touch. But that was the price Lupe would pay for this child; everything. In the open doorway, he stood for a moment, silhouetted by the gray afternoon sunlight. Then, without turning back to meet her gaze, he disappeared.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Fuck it I love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i want you</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She was like a ghost; the harder he clutched at her, the more she slipped through his fingers. Tommy knew that weeks ago she might’ve done anything for him. Killed for him, died for him. He’d come to rely on that. To find her steadfast loyalty as comforting as his own heartbeat. Like his heartbeat, he never really noticed what Tommy had held in his hands until it was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Lupe, he tried. Tommy wanted to believe he always would, but that wasn’t true. Inevitably, he would disappoint her as he did today. The walls that guarded his heart opened to her for a moment and all she’d done was push him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he left. Left to douse the fire she set in his mind and heart with some good whiskey and a good fuck. What choice did he have? Tommy liked to think Lupe had stung his pride, but his heart ached in tandem. Grace was in London and just as beautiful as Tommy remembered. If he had allowed himself, he might’ve run his fingers through her golden hair and imagined it was dark as a raven’s wing, imagined her green eyes were the color of night. Tommy Shelby was a man who held the world like the reins of a horse in his hands and couldn’t even stop longing for a woman who had made it amply clear what she thought of him. The thought of the touch of Grace’s lips on his was enough to make him nauseous; before she’d had the chance to touch him, he left. Fled, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had no place in Grace’s world, no place in her large mansion in Poughkeepsie and fancy hotel room in London, no place next to her soft, unblemished skin that smelled of irises and soap, and gentle, milk-pale hands. He didn’t want any of that to begin with. He wanted scars like his own, the scent of blood and roses and honey. Tommy wanted hands that could stab a man in the side with a shard of broken glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth was that he wanted her. Above all else. Above anyone else. How could the moon compare to the sun?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was worried about her. She had looked… unwell. Pale, clammy, weak. Like Mother had before she’d left him. Left them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A doctor. Tommy would find a doctor for her. The thought of a world without her light, without her love, was not a world he wanted to live in. And… when Lupe had asked him to stay, he’d almost agreed. The words were there on the tip of his tongue. When the light drained from her warm eyes at his inability to tell her, to tell her what she meant to him, to tell her there was no one else he wanted as he wanted her, Tommy despised himself with fresh loathing. She deserved better than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Lupe in his bones now, everywhere he looked he was chased by her wraith. A woman laughed on the street and he heard her laugh. The phantom feeling of her hand in his. Her scent, lingering everywhere he went. Lupe was haunting him. She’d allowed him to press a kiss to her forehead and that damned woman melted into his embrace. At that moment, Tommy might have burned down kingdoms for her, might have torn down the sun to put a smile on her face, to get her to trust him once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What went wrong? What had changed? He swore to himself he’d find out. Then, he would make it right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love. That’s what Polly would say. Tommy was in love. And he was absolutely fucking terrified of the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was worthy of a woman so good, so sweet as Lupe. His gloved hands curled into fists, hands that were far too dirty to touch her. But Tommy wanted her anyways. Was that selfish? Was that forbidden? Even if it was, he would find a way to make it happen. And for her, he would make the world safe. It was the thought of her smile that put breath in his lungs and made his blood run hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy wanted to take her to the countryside again. He wanted to dance with her at least one more time before his cursed life came to an end. At any cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was with that in mind he drove down to Camden Town, a lit cigarette perched between his lips for the drive. Tommy found himself fiddling with it, a rising anxiety stringing between his muscles.  “Mr. Shelby.” The Chinaman greeted him, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat before answering with a low, muttered, “Chang.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, before we see Alfie, you and I have some business to discuss.” Tommy’s jaw clenched. He had an inkling what this business was and Tommy would much rather punch out Chang’s teeth than discuss it with him. The infernal man guided him by the shoulder to the side of Solomon’s bakery, away from prying eyes and open ears. “The woman who lives at Watery Lane with you. Guadalupe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It appeared his fantasy of castrating Chang would come true sooner rather than later. “What of her?” Tommy’s voice was a warning, a minefield laid out to trap the man in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chang continued on and whether that was brave or foolish remained to be seen. “I told you to take care of her.” A queer note sounded in his accented voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it your business?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is my business, Mr. Shelby. I have known her for years now. We have a… history.” Tommy’s hand twitched for his gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chang simply laughed. “Not that kind of history, surely not. Rather, I consider her among my friends. I have many friends, yet she is one of the few who has known me the longest.” His eyes disappeared under the brim of his hat for a moment. The silence between them was heavy as lead. The man cleared his throat and continued on. “I say this not to threaten you, though it may come to that if you’re not careful,” Chang said honestly. “I told you to take care of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, did Tommy hate him. Castration wasn’t suitable for this cad; prolonged torture was clearly the only fate Chang deserved. Perhaps the only thing stilling his hand was the fact that they needed him to put Sabini down. Damn. “What do you know of my care of her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chang laughed, a bright, gay thing like the flash of a knife in the sunlight. “I supply your… medicine, Shelby. I know plenty. I know she’s alone. I know you don’t deserve her. And I know you will one day grow bored of and let her go. Just like you did that Irishwoman. The only thing I don’t know is when.” Guadalupe. Was she in danger? The blood rushed from his face as cold panic gripped Tommy’s heart. Just as he was moments away from throttling Chang for answers and for the pleasure of watching the life drain from his dark eyes, the man continued on. “I’m not threatening her. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m threatening you. When all this unpleasant business is over and done with, you will let her go. Or you will make an enemy of me. An enemy you can’t afford to make if you want to hold London.” Damn him. Damn him to the lowest level of Hell. A life without her… without her hand in his, without her clever quips and without the joy she took in everything, a joy that colored his black and white world vibrant… That was a life that could not be had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy scrutinized him for a moment. What was his play? His angle? Men were like locks; even the best ones could be picked apart by a talented hand and an insatiable desire for what lay behind. “What if I’m willing to risk that?” He challenged. Tommy wanted her, wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. That desire may have made him weak but God, she was worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chang apprised him once more. “Then you’re not the man I thought you were.” Tommy was fucking sick of the vagueness, the unspoken battle they were playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak plainly.” He commanded, with the hauteur of a man who’d earned it in blood and bodies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the only hint I’ll give you; keep her close. Keep her protected. And most importantly, treat her right. Otherwise, she’ll slip right through your fingers, Shelby. Maybe I’ll be the one helping her.” The man across from him gathered himself and strode away, leaving Tommy behind to contemplate his words. A plan coalesced in his mind. John would stay behind in Birmingham to keep an eye on her; Polly would be telephoned to not let her from the house. Guadalupe was his. No one else’s. If she left him… he would burn the fucking world down to find her.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some brief context: I am Chinese and Filipina, and thus feel comfortable using racial slurs like "chinkie/chink" as historically appropriate. However, slurs like g***y, while I may include them, I will use asterisks when typing them, as I am not Roma and thus do not personally feel comfortable using them in their entirety, historical appropriateness or not.<br/>Additionally, the overwhelming majority of the Chinese diaspora in the West took/have taken Western names while retaining their Chinese names (I included). Thus, Guadalupe, our leading lady, will be referred to both by her Western name and its' nickname, Lupe, and her Chinese name, Xiu Jia/Xiujia.<br/>I will cite my historical sources for various features of the setting as needed, for those interested.</p><p>I deeply appreciate you for taking the time to read this little labor of love of mine. I happily take praise of any kind and constructive criticism; please feel free to leave a kudos and/or a comment.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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